Phantom Resurrected: A Sequel
by Punjabchild
Summary: A sequel to the Robert Englund POTO film. 19 years later, Desiree Destler's tainted past catches up to her. Mind the rating and please RR! Revised and reloaded chapter by chapter
1. Prolouge

Phantom Resurrected

By J. Jackson (Punjabchild)

Prologue

"In time take time while doth last, for time is no time when time is past" -Anonymous

Christine sat on the cold seat of the toilet, holding the pregnancy test stick in her hand. "I'm not going to cry." she told herself, even though the test seemed to be taking an eternity.

How could this have happened? Only weeks ago, she had been plunged back into her past life, tossed about in events she had no clue were about. In Victorian London, as an opera singer caught in a web of lies, corruption, murder and obsession. But more frightened and confusing of all was discovering she was the center of affection of a love she could not return. Erik Destler, the composer, the killer, her teacher who had wanted to be her lover, who had tricked her into becoming his wife, his bride of music. He had killed everyone who had gotten between them. But even in that final moment, when his lair was being engulfed by flames, when he was wounded partly because of her, the way he fought to keep her, his strength she certainly admired him for. Perhaps loved him for.

But that was short lived. When she returned to the present, he was there, still alive still searching for her. He was disguised as a producer, giving her the lead of his show, only later to reveal himself for who he truly was. While the offer of an immortal love and a lifetime career of success and music were indeed tempting, she did not trust him. Erik would never change and as long as he was with her, she was in danger. Possessed by instincts, she attacked him and destroyed his music. His Don Juan had been so beautiful. It had touched her soul, but was necessary only to destroy his power over her. And even that didn't seem to work, when she heard him playing on the street corner to her. She knew as long as he was alive, she would never be free of the spell he had her under.

But how could she escape him? Outside of school, outside of New York she had no other life. Meg was her only friend and she had no place to go. But the worst news was yet to come. She had been late with her period and had been throwing up every morning. The tell tale signs she might be pregnant. This frightened her since the last time she had dated was back in high school. She barely had time for a boyfriend while she was at Julliard.

Could it be that Erik had found some way to impregnate her in her past life without her knowledge? Was there indeed some time they made love with out her recollection? She confessed her fears to Meg, minus the entire truth about Erik last week.

_ "So what's up?" Meg had asked, "You've been pretty quite these last few weeks, ever since the audition. You know the manager never got back to me about your contract. How bizarre is that?"_

_ Christine pushed away her now cold coffee mug. "I think the producer backed out and the show went under."_

_ "Really, the producer pulled out. Wasn't that the same guy who helped you after that moron almost killed you with that sandbag and gave you the lead? That guy? He was really cute, and I think I liked you. I could tell. You should have gone out with that guy." Meg interjected_

_ Her friend was really chatty and Christine was glad she wasn't drinking anything, lest she should choke at Meg's suggestion. Christine rubbed her throbbing temples and sighed "I didn't ask you here to talk about that. I'm in serious trouble now."_

_ "What then?"_

_ "I think I'm pregnant, Meg"_

_ Meg was silent for a moment, all her cheer and humor dropped from her face in disbelief. She tried to sound as causal as possible "Oh, and who is it? Do you know?"_

_ "Yes, I have a very good idea. But he's a very dangerous person." She confessed._

_ "Do you love him?" Meg asked._

_ "That's not the point!" Christine slammed her mug down. "Didn't you hear me, he's dangerous. Who knows what he would do if he found me or the baby!"_

_ "What kind of person is he? A gang member, a mobster?"_

_ "Much worse." Christine leaned back in her chair, hoping no one else in the coffee shop noticed her outburst, or the tears treating her eyes. Meg would never under stand, and Christine could never find the courage to tell her. Meg would have her sent off to the loony bin if she told the real truth. This was her secret and no one else. But there was another option. "I was thinking about getting an..."_

_ Meg cut her off. "Don't say abortion, Christine, don't you dare. You can't do that! You're not that kind of person. If you're that worried about who ever this is finding you and the baby, then why don't you give up the kid for adoption, just for your safety."_

_ Meg's advice had a ring to truth to it._

_ "That sounds like a better idea." Christine admitted. At least she could keep the baby away safe somewhere else in case Erik would ever find her._

_ "And you should visit too. Don't let the kid grow up hating you."_

_ "Again you're right."_

_ Meg grabbed her coat. "Listen, I got to go to work, but you make certain this whole thing is for sure first so you don't get so worried, if you know what I mean"_

And so now that's what she was doing. But still her worries were strong. What if Erik did find her, or the baby, or both? What would happen? What would he do to them? She got up and looked out the bathroom window. The adoption papers were on her desk, and now the future has in her hands. She stared down and sighed as the blue plus sign appeared on the test area.

It was true. Her worst fears realized. All she could do now was follow Meg's plan and hope for the best.

AN: Yes I have decided to go back, read over, revised and otherwise work out the kinks of Phantom Resurrected. I do have plans to countine the series. I hope replacing all my chapters in not against the rules here, but every author does have a write to go back and rewrite and chnage things if they want to. Plus now with all the upgrades of I can make it a better format So wheter this is your first read, or your reading it again for fun, enjoy -PC


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One 19 years later.

Christine had her baby, a little girl who she named Desiree. She gave the girl her father's last name of Destler, and not her own name of Day, in an effort to through the Phantom off their trail. Christine went on with her singing career, but visited her daughter often. Desiree lived in foster care until she graduated early from school, joined a labor union and moved to Harlem on her own.

"Life is the childhood of out immortality" -Goethe

Desiree reached into the box of Cookie Crisp for another handful, while skimming through the latest copy of Newsweek when her apartment intercom buzzed. "Damnit" she muttered. Who wanted her now? She answered.

"This better be good."

"Isn't it always?" The receptionist Maggie answered sarcastic. "There a women in the lobby for you. Says she your mom." Maggie stated in her thick Brooklyn accent.

"Well at least it's not some bum friend wanting money. I'll be right down."

A few minutes later, she was in the lobby watching her mother read the paper, sitting down in a dirty red chair, the only one in the space.

"Hey how are you?" Dessy called.

Christine looked up and smiled. "I'm glad I found you. Your work said that you lived in this building, but didn't give a room number."

Dessy was glad to see her mom again and thankful for her visit few as they were. It was last Christmas when the too had met, but Christine's career and Desiree's extra study had kept them busy. "Yes mom. Welcome to the humble lodging provided by the union." She said gesturing around her and then led Christine to the elevator and up to her apartment.

"Would you like some breakfast?" Desiree asked holding up a six-pack of Coke and the box of Cookie Crisp.

Christine glanced at the clock, which said 1:30 and shook her head. "No thanks, Dessy. How is the degree coming? Weren't you a health major at that community college in Jersey?"

"Oh yeah." Dessy went to the fridge. "Well I had to make a choice. I didn't have enough money to pay for school and I couldn't work. So I decided to just go back to work full time and save money for school later."

"Well Dessy you could have asked me for money. Especially if you needed for school." Christine said sitting down on the futon.

"Oh no, I wouldn't think about it. Besides that's your money that you earned. And I'm almost 19 now. I'm a big girl, who got to live on her own. You don't have to take care of me."

Christine sighed. She knew Desiree was trying to be good-natured, but was making her point. Since she had never been her responsibility.

"So how has your work been?" Christine asked.

"Oh so-so. Factory work mostly, but sometime we do yard work for rich folk in the suburbs. How about you?"

"I signed a new contract with the St. James, but I'm sure you wouldn't want to be bored with the details."

"Not really. I love the theater. In fact, one of the labor chiefs is trying to get me a job in one of them, working on sets and stuff like that. It's on 43rd street, the Off Broadway Opera Company, I believe." Dessy lit up a cigarette.

"Well that's good." Christine walked back to the table were Dessy sat and put a large envelope on it. "I came to give you that. It's your birth certificate." Dessy started to open it, and Christine went to the door. "I have to go, but I'll call you and we can go shopping sometime."

But before she got to the door, Dessy stopped her with a question.

"Mom, who is this?"

Christine turned to see Dessy pointing at the birth certificate.

"Erik Destler, is that my...father?"

Christine's heart skipped a beat and she swallowed hard. "Yes Desiree." she sighed

"How come you never told me is name?"

"Why is that important now?"

"I have a right to know." Dessy sounded angry. "Is he alive?"

"I'm not sure." Christine lied. "I think he died."

"How come he never visited me? How come you never.."

"Desiree!" Christine shouted. "Didn't your foster parents, Tom and Mary tell you a hundred times?"

Dessy stood up and threw down her magazine, and Christine jumped fearing her temper, which was very much like Erik's. It didn't take much to push them to the boiling point. "Yes they also told me they loved one another, that is until Tom started beating on my foster mom, when he was drunk. You think every thing just ends up like some fucking fairy tale! People tell me a lot of things. So they told me my father was a dangerous person, so what! I don't have to believe it."

Christine felt tears well up in her eyes. "How do you know? How can you know?"

"I just do!" Dessy shouted. "I have a feeling."

"A feeling?" Christine again stormed to the door, but Desiree got up and stopped her before she could open it. She turned to face her daughter. She saw so much of Erik in her; the sight of her face was ever a tortured reminder of him. In her brandy brown hair, high forehead, but most of all her eyes, full or spirit and passion, the way Erik's were.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm not angry with you, I don't think I ever could be. After all, you're still my mother."

A tear trickled down Christine. Dear God, she could even hear his voice in his daughter. Dessy slipped a bottle of lemon flavored water into Christine's hand.

"I'll call you when I have a day off. Take this for the subway."

James Spangler lit up a cigarette inside the office of Mr. Foster. He never understood why his boss kept his office so dark. Mr. Foster was in his high back chair, with his back turned to Jim.

"I've taken the liberty of hiring a young laborer from the Harlem Union to help us with the construction of sets and other work backstage." He said.

Foster remained silent.

"It's cheaper than hiring some college kid and her foreman assures me she is smart and a hard worker, so we can train her."

"She?" Foster asked, a thin hand reaching out for his whiskey bottle on the desk.

"Yes, sir. It's been my experience in the past working with laborers that women seem to work better. They don't cause trouble too much with strangers and they learn quicker." Jim let himself smile. "And they are least likely to call off work with a hangover."

"You speak of them as if they were slaves, Jim." The chair turned and Foster faced him. Though all the years he had been assistant manager under Foster, he had noticed the man never seem to age. His long angled features remained the same and only his hair seemed to thin and bald with age. This always puzzled him, but not as much as his boss's odd behavior.

Foster poured another glass of whiskey and handed it to Jim. "We shall see, Jim. We shall see."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"I pretend to be somebody I wanted to be until finally I became that person or he became me" –Cary Grant

Desiree arrived at Midhoff Theater, home of the Off Broadway Opera Company, around nine in the morning. The theater was at the very edge of the Theater District of Lower Manhattan and it had taken her a bit longer on the subways to get there. She walked through the revolving door and saw immediately that the entire place was in extremely low light. She had to squint to see the men working on stage, and a row of singers lined up at a piano. She walked towards the main aisle when someone saw her and walked up t o her. A young man with brown hair and a suit and tie and asked her." Can I help you miss?"

Dessy glanced at the business card that her labor chief had given her. "Yes, I'm looking for a Mr. James Spangler."

The man gave her an odd look. "Are you here for the auditions?"

"Oh, no. I'm not a singer." Dessy confessed laughing. "I was hired to help backstage. I'm the laborer."

The man clasped his hands together. "Well that makes a difference. Mr. Spangler is the gentleman in the gray coat in the second row."

She nodded to him. "Thank you, sir." She walked down the aisle where she saw two men seated, watching the singers on stage, one in a white shirt and scarf and the other with a gray coat. She sat behind them, waiting for the singers to break before she introduced herself. The man in the scarf turned his eyes and saw her out of the corner of his eye, then nudged the other who turned to face her.

"Yes miss." He inquired

"Oh, I didn't mean to disturb you, I was." Desiree stammered and pointed to the stage, indicating that she was waiting for the singers to finish.

"Never mind them, I wasn't listening anyway." The man laughed.

"Mr. Spangler I assume. I'm Desiree, from the labor union." She reached out her hand.

He shook it. "Yes I'm Jim Spangler. I spoke with your foreman on Tuesday. He said you're a good worker."

"He forgot to mention hard and fast. I did some theater work in high school and a little in college, so I know the ropes." She handed him her employment papers.

He stood up and walked to the back of the theater and she followed him. He looked over her papers. "Where did you go to school at?"

"Just a small community college in Jersey. Only took a few classes, elective stuff really. I'm just working to get more money to go back and finish."

After examining all her papers, Spangler handed them back to her. "Well everything seem to be in order. What we would be having you do is working on set construction for our new show, and then we'll have you work backstage during the production. God knows we always need an extra set of hands backstage. We also have some work for someone to clean up after hours, if you're interested?"

"Hey money is money." Dessy said.

"I'd take that as a yes."

"Yep. So when can I start."

Spangler looked back on the stage and then smiled. "Today, if you want. I got a couple of jobs that need to be done."

            Erik Deslter leaned back in his seat, looking over his score. He tired to block out the sound of the choir on stage as the butchered his music. Pity these were the best singers Spangler could find. The only reason some of the women were up there on the stage because Spangler had slept with them. God, he rather would listen to the stage hands pounding and hammering then the screeching sopranos attempting to sing his work.

Fortunately, "Illusion in Time" was not one of his master works, just another one of his many pieces, so it didn't wound his pride too much. He hadn't touched his real masterpiece, his Don Juan, in several years. In fact he hadn't worked on it since he had last seen Christine. He set down the score and took off his glasses. Even at the thought of her, his pulse rose, his hands trembled and his body ached. It had been almost 20 years since he saw her, but still she haunted his dreams, still she affected him. 20 years, that to him was like a blink of an eye. He could remember exactly how she looked back then. He wondered how much she had changed through the years while he hardly aged a day. He imagined she was still beautiful and just as stubborn as before. But no matter. He could wait, he reminded himself, and he could wait for a very long time.

He heard a loud noise behind him and turned to see Spangler and a couple other workers dragging a large box down the aisle.

"Sorry to disturb you boss, but we got the replacement seat for the broken chair in Row 2." Jim called.

Erik put his glasses back on and got up out of his seat. "Good, let's not waste any time getting it fixed."

"I'll get the new kid on it." Jim said, and then he called upward to the stage. "Hey Destler! Come down here, I got a job for you."

Erik was almost tempted to answer Spangle's call; until he remembered that here he did not go by that last name, not here. Was there now some one on the payroll with the same last name as him? He watched the stage to see some one climbing down on the ropes and Spangler walk towards them. Erik adjusted his glasses higher up on his nose to see that it was the same girl who sat behind them that morning.

"Hey Destler, I got a job for you. We need to put this chair in, but we need to rip out the old one first." Spangler felt up the girl's biceps, which Erik also noticed where larger than advantage for a female her size. "Do you think you can do it?"

"I'll give it a try sir." said the girl. She and Spangler walked down to the broken chair. Erik went over to watch. The old seat had big cracks in the wood framework too far. The girl looked at it then pulled a pair of safety goggles that were around her neck, and over her eyes. She grasped the armrest, and pulled. He watched her puzzled. Yes the girl had some muscle on her, but it would take several blows with axes or handsaws to even loosen the legs so they could break off. Yet she struggled against it as if it were no obstacle. He examined her efforts with detail her panting breath, the veins and muscles protruding through her arms, and not even breaking a sweat. She didn't show any sign of stopping.

Her efforts almost seemed inhuman.

Suddenly there was a loud crack as the back legs popped off. Bits of wood spattered into the air and Erik covered his eyes to avoid them. Amazing, he thought. She then tilted the chair towards her and shook it back and forth until she managed to screw off the top two legs.

"Wow, Dessy!" Exclaimed Spangler. "That was great! Damn girl, you are strong." Jim turned to look at Erik. "See boss, isn't she good."

Erik fixed his scarf. "Yes, that was certainly impressive."

Jim patted the girl on the back and the two walked over to him. "Boss, I'd like you to meet our new laborer, Desiree Destler. Kid, this is the owner and producer of our theater, Mr. Foster."

As the two shook hands, they studied each other for a long moment. So, Erik mused, this was the girl who seemed to share a name with, this Desiree Destler. He looked her over now that they where closer. She was still a child. She had long hair that was half-straight, half-wavy and that changed color in the light. One way it looked the color of fine brandy, the next, a shade of cooper. Her eyes were dark brown and very wide. Except for the slightly masculine looking forehead and long neck, she was very beautiful. But it was the way her lips parted and almost trembled and her shy naive glances up at him that reminded Erik of someone.

In fact this girl looked a lot like his love, his angel, his…Christine.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Foster." she said breaking the silence between them.

        "Pleasures all mine Miss Destler was it?"

"Yes, sir."

He smiled. "I can tell by your accent, you're a New Yorker, but that name, it doesn't sound American. In fact it doesn't sound common at all."

She raised her hands under her chin, shyly like prey hiding from a stalking predator. He could tell she was quite uncomfortable around him. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know much about that sir." She turned the look behind her. "I think I have to get back to work. Again it was nice to meet you." She then walked away, very hurried.

Erik allowed himself a chuckle. Indeed, this girl was afraid of him, he could tell. Even though she tired to shake hand with a firm grip, proving her strength, but her hand had quivered so violently in his grasp. But he admired her courage in attempt to mask her true emotion from him. Returning to his work he made a new resolution. Christine could wait, for they both had forever, but now he wanted to learn everything he could about Desiree Destler.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Trust your instincts. If you have no instincts, trust your impulses." –Noel Coward

Desiree wished the flashlight she held had a brighter beam. She could barely see up in the rafters. And it was a little spooky up here late at night. She sighed; listening to herself, freaked out by some old theater at night. "You're getting soft, Deslter." She muttered to herself. It was a bad habit she had, talking to herself that she had developed over the years.

            Cleaning up after hours was really not as hard job as Spangler made it out to be. Sweep up the stage, clean the long row of mirrors, make sure all the ropes were fasten so nothing would fall during the night, and clear the theater of any vagrants. Too bad the locks and lights were on timers, and as for the vagrants, if there were any; she had a trusty switchblade for that. Not that she had any prejudices against street people; she just wanted to be prepared. No telling what a drunk or junkie might do to you if they knew you had money.

She flashed the light across the catwalks; double-checking to make sure the ropes are all tied tight. Seemed no one else besides her was in the theater. She pushed her light button on her watch, which flashed 1:15. Hey not bad, she'd be home before two. Then her ears picked up the sound of electronic music. She checked her pocket. No it wasn't her cell phone. Perhaps it was some one else's phone that someone left in the theater. She was about to climb down, when a though occurred to her.

Wait, if it was some one phone, who would be calling at so late. Unless? She cupped one of her ears while holding onto the ladder with the other. The music now didn't sound like cell phone, for it wasn't repetitive like a ring tone. The melodies were to complex, surrounded by a definitive accompaniment. And besides, the sound she could now tell was coming from above her.

She climbed back up the ladder. Still holding her flashlight and cupping her ear she followed the sound to the end of the catwalk were she was meet by a spiral staircase leading up higher into the theater. She showed her light upward to see that what was above was yet another catwalk and further than that, a large metal grating. She slowly descended the stairs, which were very dusty, and it looked like no one had used them in a long time. She guessed that it was hard to see this stairs, for even when the lights were turned on; they were hidden in a corner of darkness. In fact, she guessed the staff had thought the catwalk she was previously standing on was the highest. After she had finished climbing the stairs, she landed on a small platform which had another ladder rooted to it. The music continued and indeed was much louder. Nowhere to go but up, she thought.

She stuck the flashlight in her pocket and started to climb up. The air felt humid and smelled awful. It was only when she reached the top that did she discovered why. All over the floor were pieces of mice feces. She clamped her nose and turned away. "God disgusting!" Careful not the step in them, Dessy got off the ladder.

Now she was in an even stranger place. It was another platform, larger and covered by many small broken desks and chairs, like the kind you find in a classroom, not an opera house. And there was a door, a door with a light behind it. She shined her light on the floor to see a step of footsteps set into the dusty floor. Male footsteps from a dress shoe it looked like. She was not alone up here. She made her way to the door. Turning the knob very carefully, she found out it was unlocked. God, was did she always have to deal with trouble, she thought placing her fingers over her switchblade, wishing she had a gun instead and threw the door open.

The music swelled around her a bright light from a computer screen shined right into her eyes. A man was seated in front of it, surrounded by a wall of electronics. Electric piano, keyboards, rows of disks, record, cassettes, and CDs, mixers and woofers. Like something out of a DJ or a techno Mozart's closet. The man noticing the noise, pressed a key on his console which stopped the music, turned and walked to her.

"Ah shit." Dessy muttered. Looks like I interrupted some one's privacy. She backed against the close door. She couldn't even see the man's face. Shielding her eyes from the light, she closed tighter around her blade her figure hovering over the switch. Her breathing increase and sound more like raking gasps, and sweat began to rise on her forehead. "Who are you? What are you doing her? Show yourself!" She shouted

Just then the man's face came into a clear view so Dessy could recognize him, and dropped her flashlight when she finally saw who it was.

"I should ask the same of you." replied the stern Mr. Foster.

"Oh, Mr. Foster! I didn't recognize you there." Dessy stammered off guard. "I was just checking to see and I-I."

"You what?" he spat.

Dessy's stared cold at him. Damn, what was this guy some uptight hard ass. Even though he was her new boss, she didn't have to lavish him with showers of respect and praise like the rest of his brown nosing staff. "Jesus, I heard some music and I thought it was a cell phone. So I followed the noise and found you up here. I'm just trying to do my job!"

"And what part of your job description says you have to snoop around where you're not wanted?"

"Hey, Spangler says when I clean up at night, I should check in case any one is in the building who not supposes to be here. Okay? Not like everyone else in New York is locked away in an opera house after midnight"

"Well now that you can see I'm not some homeless wreck, you can go about your business." He turned his back on her.

"Fine! I was done anyway!" She shouted to his back. She thought of some choice words to call him, but decided it was best to mumble them under her breath to sate her anger.

She went towards the door. "Oh and I know how to set the alarm so don't bother." He retorted.

God, he just had to get the last word in didn't he. Well he picked the wrong person to play that game with. "Good, one less god damn job I have to do around here. Thanks a ton pal!"

As her figures closed around the knob, the music started again. It was so haunting, like a morn full lullaby calling her across a landscape of dreams. Even inspiring her to have these sudden poetic thought, she knew this music must be magic. And she also knew, by the way it played that it must be his music.

"Hey." she called back to him

"What is it now?'

Smiling, she tired to make her voice sound as truly sincere as she felt." By the way, I enjoy your music very much, Maestro." she said, then walked out the door without another word.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned" –Congreve

Erik walked back on the stage, after talking contracts with Spangler and then a couple cups of coffee and cigarette later, he forced himself to get back to work. Which was actually do nothing, but making sure everyone else was doing his or her job, now that he thought about it. He immediately saw Desiree painting a large backdrop. She had been told to paint the large canvas, according to where the different colors were suppose to go, like a big paint-by-number kit. He was walking by her, but then stopped in his tracks when he saw her progress.

Most of the time when backdrops were painted, it took a couple of workers a day to paint the whole thing, and that was before the artists came in and did the details. But Desiree almost had the entire canvas covered and it was just lunchtime. He set down his portfolio and leaned over her shoulder.

"Looking good there." he commented

She turned to look at him, carefully holding her paintbrush so she wouldn't drip it, but also so she could slap him in the face with it if she chose. He couldn't blame her if she did though; he had been rather rude to her.

"Yes, so what?" she snorted

"Well, it's very good you got it done so fast. How long you've been working on it?" Erik mocked himself on the inside in his feeble attempt to make causal conversation.

He observed her. She wore a tan baseball cap, a Yankee tee shirt, blue jeans and sneakers. Small beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and a small speckle of paint was under her cheek. She placed the brush back in the pan, wiped her hands and turned to face him.

"It should be good; I've worked on it since quarter till seven."

"But, weren't you working late last night?"

"Yes, Mr. Foster. So were you. We ended up running into each other if you remember?"

"Of, course and I think I owe you and apology. I was rather rude and you were just trying to do your job."

She stood up and brushed her hand under the brim of her cape. "That's alright. I'm use to it, and I've gotten into worst fights with employers than that."

He picked up his portfolio. "Still that no reason saying you have to come in so early."

"I didn't come in early to make you happy." She snapped. "I'm just working to get enough money to get back to school." She started walking off the stage, but he followed her, almost on her heels.

"School, huh? What were you studying? Theater, perhaps? Or maybe music?"

She laughed "You're giving me a distinguished major, well that very flattering. No I was a health major, which is only really good to take the sports and fitness classes." Then she paused. "But I wished I could study music. You know, just study at Julliard or something like that. I was good at music back in high school, my teachers said so but they also keep telling me that I could never make a career of it."

"See that's what wrong with music education today. Everyone here's made a living from music, it's not like they are all staving!" Erik said, waving his arms to point around the theater.

Desiree raised an eyebrow. "You should be on the board of education." Then she pulled out her wallet and glanced into it.

"You know, we could talk about music over lunch if you wanted to?" He offered.

"Oh no. I'm not dressed up enough to go to some fancy restaurant and besides I'm short on cash." She replied shaking her head and turning again to walk away.

"How about McDonald's, my treat?"

Erik found it harder than he thought to gain Desiree's trust and get information out of her. Especially when she was shoving a Big Mac and handfuls of fries into her mouth.

"So what kind of music did you do?" he asked leaning over the table in the crowed fast food place.

Desiree took a large sip of her Coke and swallowed the rest of the food in her mouth. "Oh, I played violin in the band, and dabbled a bit on the piano, but I didn't have enough time to really learn a lot of it. I always had to work."

       "Why would work get in the way of your schooling?" He asked

Desiree put down her Coke and glared at him coldly. "Do you think it's because my family had some finical trouble that I need to work to survive? It was nothing like that! So if you want a glimpse of my personal life, all I can tell you is that I came to hate my family, and working was just a way to get away from them. So I went to work all the time." she said, sharply.

Erik picked at his small salad with fork and lowered his eyes. Desiree turned her glaze to the window. "Look, I didn't mean to pry. If I offended you, I am profoundly sorry." he said sympathetically.

She looked back at him, and then smiled. "God Mr. Foster, you don't have to apology like that. You should hear yourself in your fancy tongue. Now you don't have to act like a gentleman to me. You're going to make me think I'm some uptown lady or something." She laughed and Erik started to feel more relaxed. "Besides, it's not like they were my real family."

"Your real family?" he asked

"Yeah I was raised in foster care. My mother had me when she was very young, still in college. She gave me up for adoption. She knew I have a better life than she could provide for me. But, even though I don't tell her, I know the real reason she gave me up was because of her career."

Intrigued, he pressed in with more questions. "So what was her important career? A politician?"

"Hardly, she was a singer."

"Oh really does she work on Broadway."

"Of course."

"Well what's her name? I don't know of any singer with the name Destler."

"Oh" she said shoving more fires into her hand. "That's cause Destler my dad's name. Her name is Christine Day." Then let the fries in her hand find their way to her mouth. Erik leaned back in his chair, trying with all his might to contain his inner joy and triumph. He wanted to pound his fist on the table and give out a shout. He had to content himself with a small smirk. At last he had a connection. This girl was his link to his lost love, his Christine. There was still the mystery of Desiree connection to his last name. Now that he knew Christine was her mother, there was an obvious answer to the question looming in his brain. But he could deal with that later. Right now, his goal was to win Christine back. And to do that, he would have to get her in his territory.

Desiree looked at him, rather oddly at his blank appearance.

"Um, yeah. Have you heard of her?" she asked, puzzled

Erik allowed himself a very big smile. "Know her? Why, I think your mother is one of the best voices on Broadway of today. I would love to have her in one of my shows." He sighed, hamming it up. "If only that were possible."

"Well. I'm sure she would be interested in the company. I don't know if she signed her new contract yet. But if you wanted to, I could ask her." Desiree replied

"Oh I couldn't ask you to do that. It's just." He leaned over the table. "Come closer and I'll tell you a secret." he said

Hesitantly, Desiree pushed aside her food and leaned her ears in front of his face.

"The truth is I can't stand any of the singers performing in my company. They sound think a flock of squawking geese, even toads in fact. If I could get one good Broadway name in my show, our company would have so much. We could be rich. I would love to have your mother be that voice, that name." He leaned back in the chair. "I'd even be inclined to give you a same cash bonus."

Desiree's eyes lit up. "Oh really?" she said with a smile.

Erik traced a figure down his beverage cup, feeling the wet slick drops glide across his figures. "It seems that you and I have something else in common. We both like money. So what do you say?"

She picked up a packet of ketchup and started to shake it.

"I'll see what I can do."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Love must have wings to fly away from love, and then back again."-Edwin Arlington Robinson

"But mom, he really wants you to come and try out for his company." Desiree pleaded on the phone. She didn't particularly like the idea of having to recruit her mom to try out for Mr. Foster's show, but with the money he promised her, it changed her mind.

"Well Dessy, I just don't know." Christine murmured.

"You already said you haven't signed a contract with the James yet?"

Christine sighed. "That's because they are still working on it."

"Yeah, so! It's not like you have to stick with them. Just go sing for my boss, and see what contract he can come up with. Then just take the one with more money He said he really wanted a big name like yours." Dessy pleaded, not giving in. She suspected she must have inherited her stubbornness from her unknown father.

Her mother laughed softly. "My, you are starting to sound like you're my agent or something. Besides it's not just about the money."

Dessy rolled her eyes; glad her mother wasn't there to see.  Whatever the sky is colored in your world, mom she thought.

"Listen just say you'll come to an audition. Then if you don't want the job, then don't take it. It that simple!"

There was a long pause on the line then Christine answered. "All right, I'll do it, even if it's only just to shut you up. I'll meet you at Grand Central Station at 10:30 on Tuesday."

"Sounds good to me."

"But after that, your boss has to let you have the day off so we can go shopping like we promised. Okay?"

"Yeah mom." Dessy said. "We'll spend lots of time together."

            Christine descended the main stairs at Grand Central; and could pick out Dessy immediately. She stood near the doors, with a bright orange visor on and a gray sweater. It reminded Christine of a Halloween when her daughter was six, and had visited to go trick-or-treating. She was dressed in an oversized pumpkin costume. It was the first time Dessy had trick or treated in the New Jersey suburb were Christine lived. She smiled remembering when they had come to a house were there was no one to pass out treats, and an angry Desiree began to pound and kick at the door shouting, "I want candy!" at the top of her lungs. She even shined her little plastic flashlight inside the window of the reluctant neighbors before Christine dragged her away.

The two met and took the subway down to 43rd Street. Desiree stopped at a hot dog stand before they went to the theater, because she hadn't had lunch yet, even though Christine had been planning to go out to eat later in the afternoon. As they rounded a corner to take them to the theater, Christine couldn't suppress the feeling that this place was very familiar. Something about the bricks in the walls, and the way the Broadway posters were aligned.

"Well here we are." Dessy announced, pointing up to a towering marquee. It read "The Off Broadway Theater Company." Around the box office and the door were signs advertising a forthcoming opera called "Illusion in Time" But the architecture of the building caught Christine's eye.

She wasn't imagining things. This was the exact theater that almost 20 years ago; she had first encountered Erik Destler. She could almost see the shadow of his presence in the gray bricks and dull colors of the marquee and the signs. Dessy walked to the door, but stopped at the box office station to look at her. Christine stood frozen, looking up in blank horror.

"Uh, mom. Everything okay?" she called.

Christine shook her head. "Yeah, I'm all right sweetheart. I was-just thinking. That's all." Christine took long breaths trying to calm down. He can't be here, she told herself, and you are just imaging things. They both walked in the door and into the dark theater. Dessy called out to some men on the stage doing light stage work.

"Hey, Mr. Spangler! You up there."

One man in a dark jacket raised his hand, jumped off stage and walked towards them. Christine held her breath as her came closer.

"Yes, Destler I'm here. What are you bugging me about now?' he asked

Christine let out a sigh when she saw a man with a dark bushy beard and light blue eyes answer Dessy's summons.

"Hey, is that any why to talk around the show's new star?" She jested than turned towards her mother. "Jim, I want you to meet my mom, Christine Day."

Spangler's eyes lit up. "The singer?" he shook Christine's hand warmly. "Ms. Day, I really admire your work on Broadway these past years. I'm James Spangler, operator and casting director of this company and it's a pleasure to have you interested in us."

"Well my daughter was rather insistent." Christine joked relived.

The bright lights of the stage didn't affect her eyes now that she had been use to them for so many years. The piano music started, and Christine almost opened her mouth to sing Don Juan. She shut her eyes. That part of Erik, his glorious music was the thing she missed the most. She had some times dreamed at night that he would come to her, and play for her. She had wished for him to come during her nights of unrest to hold her hand and sing to her.

She focused on her music. She had selected her solo piece she sang at her debut at Carnegie Hall with the Mid-America Music Production choir, only last spring. It was the "Pie Jesu" from Faure's Requiem. Even there she had felt Erik's presence, as if he were the pianist across the stage or the other baritone soloist sitting next to her. All these years, she could imagine him, whispering words of in encouragement in her ears and holding her in his arms full of comfort and pride. And now here, she felt him even more now.

She began the opening line, her voice and the piano becoming one. She swayed slightly and closed her eyes. She latter opened them to see Dessy in the first row, smiling and looking up with wonder, next to Mr. Spangler.

The song ended and the house was full of heavy applause considering the small numbers of occupants in the auditorium. She smiled ad gave a slight bow. Dessy whistled loudly and the stagehands in the rafters did the same. She nodded in their direction then to her accompanist. She they gather her music and walked off stage. She felt almost as giddy as she did back in college after a good audition. She waited in the dark wing for Mr. Spangler. He barked orders to the workers as Christine saw Dessy jump on stage. She jerked a thumb upward. "Gotta get back to work." She called.

Christine waved at her, and then turned to leave. But she was blocked by another body standing in the wing with her. She hadn't noticed another person there before.

"Excuse me please." She asked politely, trying to push her way through.

The shadow didn't move. Then it lifted it head and Christine took a step back, startled by the flash of fire she saw its green eyes.

She dropped her music and felt as if her heart sank into her stomach. The shadow cornered her and now in the dim light she could make out his features perfectly.

"Well Christine, it's been a long time." Erik's icy voice taunted her. "But I knew you would come back to me."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

 " The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love." –Bailey

            Erik leaned against the smooth glass of the mirror and watched as recognition dawned on Christine's face. He flicked away the smoldering cigarette and crush the burning ember under the heal of his boot. She watched him in terror; for fear that he would do the same to her. With her flushed cheeks, and trembling lips, he had to admit to himself, he found her more beautiful when she was frightened.

"Surprised to see me Christine? You shouldn't be." He teased her, in his rich melodiously voice.

She dropped her music and put her hands over her ears as if to block him out. "No, it can't be. You're dead! You have to be!"

Erik turned his head and gave a small cruel chuckle. She ran at him, pounding her tiny fists on his chest in an effort to wound him.

"I killed you! Why do you still live?" she cried. He clamped her wrists in his with one fluid movement and pulled her against him. He relished in being so close to her again, feeling her pulse drum against his figures, and taking in the scent of the rose perfume she always wore.

"It would take more than a little knife wound and ripping up a copy of my music to destroy me." He said tightening his grip trying to frighten her. When she was scared, he was in control. He leaned over to her ear, strands of her hair brushing against his face. "My music lives inside me. It also lives inside you, no matter if you want to accept that or not. And that something you can never kill, my dear." He pulled away, letting his brow and nose traced down her neck and across her shoulder before looking into her eyes again. He released his grip but she did not run away. Instead she grabbed at the folds of his coat and sobbed against his shoulder.

"Why Erik? Why can't you just let me be? What have I done to deserve this?" she begged.

Her words almost moved him to tears. What have you done? He threw his arms around her and pulled hem further into the shadow out of sight, determine not to let go of her. "Christine, you have captured my heart. As long as you have that, I can never let you go, ever. You are always with me Christine, and you always will be. Your voice haunts me at night. You are in my soul, part of my being. You have my heart and because of that, I will always be with you, forever." He buried his face in her hair, feeling her shudder. "But there is something else of mine you have."

Christine looked over her shoulder to see Erik focusing on the fleeting figure of Desiree on stage and she gasped.

"No Erik, it not possible. It's not true." She said quickly

"You're lying Christine."

She looked up at him with the fear of a small child. "I don't remember. I don't know. We never..."

His eyes flashed with anger. "I remember Christine! I remember it very clearly!"

She brought her hand to her mouth. "No."

He snatched her arm and drew it next to his body. "Perhaps in your brief glimpse of your former life you forgot to recall that moment. But it happened, and from the moment I saw that girl, I knew there was something about her and once I found out that you were her mother, well it was all to easy after that. She the one who brought you to me, Christine."

She glared at him defiantly. "You will leave her out of this! Don't you dare hurt her!" she hissed.

"Hurt her? I wouldn't dream of it. In fact Christine, I believe that you are the one who hurt her the most. Giving her up for adoption so you could save your precious career, not even caring the kind of home she was raised in, not bother to tell her about her father. You're a real loving mother Christine aren't you?" he mocked

"It wasn't like that."

"Oh it wasn't. Perhaps you gave her up because you couldn't stand to raise her, knowing she was mine. You've always known that. To see her grow up and to see me again in her. It was because of all the pain it would cause you."

Christine let her head fall down; knowing what he said was true. He stilled loved her, but could not forgive the fact that she hid his daughter from him. His own daughter! The one person, who if she had known him as a child, could have loved him. A person to love that wouldn't be repulsed by him. He pulled her along side him as they walked towards the stage.

Now it was time for the truth to be known.

        Desiree scurried up the stairs to a catwalk with two other workers. They had been assigned to raised up one of the backdrops and store it back in the rafters. The backdrops were on a pulley system and it should take only a few tug of the rope to raise it off stage. She wondered how her mother's audition went. She hadn't seen Mr. Foster anywhere in the theater and guessed he must have been backstage listening. She was sure he would have signed Christine on anyway, no matter what her performance. He was so anxious to have her come to the theater; he had bugged Dessy about it every day. He seemed almost infatuated with her mom.

From her high viewpoint she looked down on the stage and saw Christine and Foster walking across stage. They must be going off to look at contracts she thought. Then Tom, one of the workers yelled at her.

"Hey Destler, quick looking around and let's get this thing done. Maybe Spangler will let us go to lunch early."

She turned and grabbed hold of her rope. "Not likely" she remarked

"Well it's to bad Foster is busy with that singer lady, otherwise we could have you talk him into letting leave, oh boss's pet." Tom jeered.

Dessy flipped him the figure and set to work.

"All right everybody! On the count of three pull!" Tom instructed.

He counted down and Dessy tugged at her rope and it almost slipped out of her hand. That rope was far too heavy. She rocked back and pulled with all her might, but moved it only a few inches. She tired again, watching the others who almost had their sides of the backdrop fully up.

"What's the matter Dess?" Tom called

"I think it stuck on something. I keep pulling but nothing coming up."

"Hold on, let me finish tying down mine and me and Lamar will come fix it."

Dessy continued to pull at the rope until she saw a glimpse of something handing on the side of the backdrop by another rope. She pulled again with all her might to see what it was, and almost dropped the rope when it came into view.

It was a corpse. Still dripping with blood all over its body hanging by the neck. Veins and vessels popped through the skin and Dessy gasped when she saw that the person's skin had been removed. She held fast to the rope, frozen in fear. She anted to cry out but her mouth felt like it was full of vomit.

Then the corpse snapped open it eyes and pointed a bloody figure at her. It hissed in the most awful sickening sound she had ever heard. "Deeeessssstttllleeerrrr.. You did this to me. You."

Dessy felt her breath fly out of her as if she had been struck in the chest. She felt dizzy and she stumbled backwards. In the distance she could her Tom's faint screaming "Dessy, look out!" as the blood rang in her ears. She lost her footing on the catwalk, dropped the rope and fell backward, down to the stage below.

Erik marched Christine across the stage intent on finding Desiree immediately. He kept her locked in his grip. "It's over now Christine." He whispered in her ear. "Just keep walking as if nothing is happening."

Suddenly he heard a scream from above and he and Christine glanced up. Erik could see a body falling toward the stage. He recognized instantly the gray sweatpants, the white tank top and the flowing brown hair.

It was Desiree.

He flew from Christine's side and ran toward Desiree's falling form. If she hit the stage at the speed she was plummeting at, would kill her instantly and he knew it. He stood under her, his supernatural speed allowed him to reach her before gravity would. Christine rushed beside him, and screamed seeing her daughter. Erik raised his arms to catch her. Dessy's body shifted in the air and then slammed into him. He held her body tightly against him. This child was the only salvation he could ever have. The force of the fall made him, shudder and lose his footing. The backdrop above them came thundering down, crashing about the stage, and missing Christine by centimeters. Erik stumbled backwards into the mirror. Christine rushed to grab his coat and pulling up, knowing all to well what would happen if they hit the mirrors. But it was too late and was dragged along with them.

Erik holding Desiree, and Christine trying to reach them shattered, the glass and sent them hurdling backwards in time.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"Oh may I join the choir invisible. Of those immortal dead who live again."- George Eliot

Night. It had seemed she had been in an eternity of night. She couldn't open her eyes; all she could sense was darkness. But then something started to come into focus. Sculptured rocks and mist, Dessy could almost stretch out her arms to feel the mist around her. Suddenly is felt like a cold wet rag had been thrown into her face and she snap to the presence.

She looked around. She was in a graveyard covered in a dull fog. She could feel take her feet were wet and she stared down to see that she was barefoot. She was also in a long flowing nightgown of cream-colored silk. What am I doing here, she wondered. Dessy heard footsteps behind her and was surprise to see a little girl, in a similar dress as her own, running pass her in the fog.

"Hey, wait! Where are you going?" she called. The girl didn't answer, just kept running. Dessy pulled up her long gown and went after her, trying not to trip on the grass or over the tombstones. The little girl ran towards a stone building with a winding staircase of granite leading to an open facade. Then Desiree noticed the music that seemed to surround the graveyard. A solo violinist playing a haunting yet beautiful melody that sounded very familiar. The little girl reached the stairs and stopped. She laid her head down and started to cry. Dessy rushed up to the weeping child and put a hand on her shoulder. The girl looked up at her tears dripping down her checks and her heart skipped a beat.

The girl looked just like her. Her features were the same as Desiree's when she was a child. The liquid brown eyes, the baby fat cheeks, and straw like hair. They were all the same. The girl wiped her hand over her eyes.

"I miss my papa." She sniffed.

Dessy knelt beside her. "Are you looking for your father? Is he missing?"

The girl nodded.

Dessy understood. "Yeah I know. I'm missing my father too."

The girl looked up the stairs. "But he's right up there. Playing the music." Then she turned to look at Desiree. "I just can't get to him." The she flew in to Dessy's arms and sobbed against her chest. "Papa misses me. Can you go find him."? She pointed her small chubby figures up towards the facade where the music seemed to be coming from.

"He's up there. Is he the one playing the music?" Desiree let go of the little girl's hand and started to walk up the stairs. The music seemed almost to be calling to her. The girl cried up to her. "Papa misses me! Tell him I'm here! I'm down here! I'm alive down here." Her pitiful wailing made Desiree shuddered underneath her gown as she turned to look down on her.

The little girl had vanished into the fog. Dessy continued up the stairs draw by the melody. God, who was the musician behind this beautiful artwork displayed for her ears. She reached the facade, which was the base of a long corridor. Unlike the graveyard it was filled with a brilliant white light. Small snowflakes flew in by the wind and rested on her lips and eyelids. She saw a cloaked figure of a man at the end of the corridor. He was the playing the violin and swaying with the music. He sensed her watching him and stopped. He reached out a hand to beckon her.

"Desiree, come to me." he called

His voice! It was like an angel's, rich and dramatic as well as powerful and demanding. Desiree was almost frighten of it and she took a step backwards

"Don't be afraid, Desiree. I won't harm you. I could never harm you." He said. Then he started to sing, the same melody so beautiful. The music acted like some sort of powerful magnetic force and she was the opposite end being pulled towards it. She walked until she was only a few feet in front of him. Even then she still could not see his face. His shadowy arm pulled her against a warm shoulder. She felt safe here, in his embrace. It was calm and comforting, but not like a lover's more like...a father's. He's song continued and Dessy could feel herself starting to cry.

"Don't stop singing." She whispered. "Please, never stop." Suddenly after all these years, this was the place she thought she belonged. Like it was a whole other life she had missed before, it had been hidden in the shadow. She is where she was meant to be.

It was here that she wanted to stay, forever.

Erik returned the washcloth to the warm basin of water, wrung it in between his hands and placed it on Desiree's forehead. She still lay unconscious. Again they were in his home under the cellars of the opera. The smell of beeswax candles surrounded him and the scent of wine from his personal collection clung is dark suit. Christine was behind him tearing cloth to make bandages. The fall backwards in time had affected Desiree. Shards of glass stuck themselves into her forearms and around her collarbone. She had once started the shiver violently when Erik had brought her down to his lair that she had to be tightly wrapped so she wouldn't fall off the bed he laid her in. Now she was in a sort of coma, trapped in a dream like state for which she couldn't free herself.

He knew he should have gone to his medicine cabinet and made an elixir for her when she awakened, but he didn't want to leave her side. For once, he wanted to be there when his only child awaked form this terrible nightmare, to be for once the pair of caring arms she could be held in, a shoulder for her to cry on. To give her the things that he never had when he was young. Christine knelt beside him and began to wrap her wounds. She timidly glanced up at him.

"Erik, what are you going to tell her when she wakes up?" she asked

"You mean if she wakes up." He replied dryly.

Christine put a hand on her daughter's forehead. "Oh God, Desiree. How did this happen?" then she turned to address him. "Why did she come back too?"

Erik had wondered this too. He being an immortal could also carry Christine back to her past life. He could travel through time at his own leisure and by his own power. But Desiree must have travel back herself by her own accord, being partly immortal. Half his immortal damned blood flowed through her veins. She like Erik and Christine was dressed in the fashion of the Victorian Era. Could it be that Desiree also had a past life in England that he was no aware of?

Desiree stirred in her sleep. Erik cradled her head in his hands, but she instantly became motionless again. "When she comes to, I'm going to tell her the truth." He said.

Christine stopped her work. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean everything, the whole truth."

"Erik you can't." He fixed a look of pure anger on her.

         "Yes I can. She has the right to know. Don't tell me what I can and cannot do! Like you are my God or something!" he snapped. Christine lowered her head and let her arms drop to the floor.

             "Please, don't yell at me. If you loved me as you say you do, you would not be so cruel towards me." She sighed. Erik turned his attention back towards Desiree, trying to block out the painful effects of Christine's words. He placed a hand on his daughter's check. He could feel warmth coming back into her body. "But Erik, what about your face?" Christine asked.

            On impulse, Erik flung his hand away from Desiree and brought it back to his own face, as if his very touch would taint her. He pressed his figures hard and deep into his mask of flesh, feeling the real ravage texture of skin below. Desiree again stirred and started to moan. Her breathing became heavy and her arms jerked back in forth. Erik put his hand back around her face. "She's fighting it. She's trying to come out of the coma." Christine held Dessy's hands and shook them. "I must call her from her dream." He announced. "I must call her out." He leaned closer to her face, lightly patting her cheeks. "Desiree…come back to us. Come back to me. Desiree you must come back." Suddenly Desiree screamed and sat bolt upright into Erik's arms.

Desiree found herself in another set of powerful arms. But now the air was warm around her, not cold. She looked up, where was her magical violinist. She turned to she a woman beside her, and was shocked to she it was her mother. She turned out the strong arms, not even brothering to see to whom they belonged to, and reached fro her mother.

"Mom, is that you?" she asked

Christine flung her arms around Dessy's neck. "Yes, Dessy it's me! Oh thank God you're all right!" she cried.

"Yeah, but I don't know what happened to me. I had-this dream." Christine turned her eyes upwards and Dessy followed her gaze, to the being who had held her only a moment ago. Barely two feet in the front of her and almost a foot higher than her stood a man in a black suit. His shoulders were broad, his presences powerful. But it was his face that surprised her.

"Mr. Foster? What are you doing here?" she asked

He smiled and shook his head. "It's a long story."

Dessy started to look around the room where she was. It was such a strange place. Thousand of candles stuck in the walls bathed the room in an orange light. The walls had holes scattered around them, like those of a catacombs. One corner of the room was full of selves, brimming with sheets of music. There was a cupboard of wine and bread. Up on a large podium that seemed to be formed out of the catacomb rock sat a large organ, which pipes seem to spread like tentacles of some mythical beast.

"Where I am?" she inquired her mouth wide open in wonder.

Mr. Foster and her mom looked at each other for a long moment, like they where trying to read each others mind on what to say. Slowly Mr. Foster lowered his head and nodded. Christine's eyes widen as a plead and shook her head rapidly. Mr. Foster ignored her and turned to Dessy.

"I'll tell you, but there is something you won't believe. They sound ridiculous, but they are all real. First, from what we can tell, what the accident cause. Desiree, you are in the turn-of-the-century London. Right now as we speak."

Dessy looked at him like he was a madman. He put both of his hands over her shaking ones. "And there is more, a please forgive me for not telling you this sooner."

"Forgive me too." Christine added softly.

"Forgive you for not telling me what?" Dessy asked, still thinking this whole thing was a joke.

Foster took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Desiree, my real name isn't Foster. It's Destler, Erik Destler." He paused and looked straight into her eyes. "I'm your father." He confessed.


	9. Chapter 8

Phantom Resurrected Chapter Eight

Desiree sat alone on the couch, frowning. Erik glanced over his shoulder at her, while she was fixing some medicine for her. She caught him looking and turned away, wrapping his cloak tighter around her. He could almost feel the anger pouring off of her. Sighing, he knew he couldn't blame her. Erik put a cork on the small vial of herbs, sweetened with honey, picked up a cup of water for her and a glass of whine for himself and brought it over to her.

"Here." He said handing over the vial. "This is an herbal formula which will calm your nerves." She reached for the vial in his hand, very defensively. "It's not poison." he assured her. "I have no reason to harm you." Then she opened the vial and drank it quickly. She made a sour face and snatched Erik's glass of whine and emptied it into her mouth.

"Now that will calm my nerves." She corrected with a smile. "So why am I here?" she asked.

Erik took a seat next to her and straightened in himself. "That I'm not too sure about myself. Desiree, do you believe in a person having a past life? That people might have lived, before they actually lived, but do not remember it?"

"Yeah I thought that stuff was possible."

"Well your mother and I have in a way both discovered her past lives, but you must be here because you have a past life that you don't remember." He explained.

"So what was Christine's past life?" Dessy asked, holding the cup of water in her hands.

"She was an opera singer much like she is in her present life."

"Did you love my mother?"

Erik turned to face her. She was an adult but like a child. She looked filled with wonder and amazement, but the scars of reality shown in her eyes. Could he even confess to her how much he loved her mother? How much he worshiped and adored her, and how he would sacrifice his own damned life for only a moment of her happiness. He sighed in his longing for Christine. Yes he had already decided that Desiree deserved to know the entire truth.

"Yes, I love your mother, Desiree. I always have and I always will."

"I thought so." She muttered. Exhaustion seemed to weigh down her voice. Her head started to nod back and forth until she set in back on the couch and slid it near his shoulder. "Erik, did you ever know about me?"

"No, I never did until yesterday in the theater."

"You mean about 100 years from yesterday, or something like that." She yawned.

"Once I returned you to the surface, you'll understand everything I say is true." He looked up to see Christine enter the room.

She was dressed in a tasteful travel dress of light blue green. Her hair was pinned up in a coil of braids and buns. If only he had the courage to go to her, kiss and embrace her, like any normal man. Like a true husband would.

"Do I look all right?" she asked

"Perfect." He whispered

"Swell mom." Desiree mumbled.

Erik turned to her, watching her eyelids slowly close. He gently shook her. "We need to get you dressed. You too are going to have to go up with your mother."

"Why? Go up where? Can't I just stay here and take a nap?"

"No I'm afraid not. We need toget you into more...feminine attire." Erik stated

Desiree rolled her eyes and groaned

* * *

Jacob Danvers stood up in Box Five where he could have a perfect view of the stage and the auditorium. He could see the housekeepers across from him, tending to the other boxes and the seats in the stalls. He turned his gaze down to the stage, watching a set of workers raised up a piece of scenery and the young ballet dancers practice in another corner. Box Five had such a magnificent view of the stage. It was a damn shame he couldn't sell it for a performance. Everyone stilled believed the Phantom haunted it. He still couldn't believe people still believed in those stories. Even his partner, Matthews seemed obsessed with the whole thing.

He insisted that Erik Destler, the elusive Phantom character responsible the murders of La Carlotta, and Jacob's cousin Richard so many years ago were still alive. Waiting to come back and wreak havoc upon them. Jacob had dismissed the idea entirely. He had Matthews had been forced to take over the management of the opera house after his cousin Richard, who he knew was killed in an accident, died and when Matthews' close friend, Barton had quit. They where both still very young, and while Jacob took on the task of making sure the opera prospered under his management,

Matthews had treated his duties as a bore. Until he discovered the social statues he had, then he used his position to attract hoards of women

While he was still young, and didn't actually approve of his partner's actions or behavior, he couldn't help feeling a little jealous. Mainly because of all the hours he had put into his job, he had never had time for a serious relationship. He leaned over the railing in the box and sighed.

"Besides, who would want to marry me?' he thought out loud.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and one of his assistants rushed in.

"Sir, I'm glad I found you. You won't believe who just walked in the door." He said breathlessly.

"Let me guess, her Majesty?" Jacob replied dryly.

"No sir, it's Christine Day, the singer who we thought died. She's come back from America! She's out in the lobby right now." J

acob followed the young man, and pondered of this news. In a way it was both a blessing and a curse. If Miss Day had returned, it would certainly be for the benefit of the company if she decided to sing a contract with them. Of course that would mean Jacob doing all the work and Matthews most likely getting all the glory, as usual. On his way down he met his partner,

Harrison Matthews in the foyer. He was dressed in a flamboyant white suit and had a wide smile on his face; apparently he had already heard the news.

"Oh my good friend Jacob, there you are! Have you heard?" he exclaimed

"Yes, Harry I already know."

"Christine Day in her triumphant return as diva of the London Opera House. Can you imagine the publicity we'll get? We must sign her up." Harry explained moving his arms about.

"No, Matthews we must ask her it she wants to sign with us, then we must draw up a contract."

Matthews put a hand on Jacob's shoulder. "Oh just listen to yourself Jake, Bloody hell listen to yourself. We be fools not to sign her on the instant we meet her."

The two walked into the lobby full of light form the oddly sunny London afternoon. Immediately, Jacob could spot the American singer. It had been almost 20 years since the singer had appeared on stage, but even in her late 30's she kept her age well. Her dark eyes sparkled still and her black hair didn't show any signs of gray. Jacob had seen many pictures of Miss Day from programs filed in the company archives. There was also another young women standing next to Miss Day dressed in a plain cream blouse and a long brown skirt. He couldn't recognize her. While Matthews proceed to impress Miss Day with his annoying charms, Jacob tried to get a better glimpse of the mysterious young lady.

"Ah, Miss Day it is such a pleasure to see you returned to us. When you disappeared all those years ago, we at the opera didn't know what to think." Matthews gallantly kissed the older singers' gloved hand.

"Well sir, I'm sure you were just a school boy when that all happened. I was fine. I had to go away to American for a.family emergency." She explained.

" That's all understandable. My partner, Mr. Danvers and I are hoping that your visit here means that you interested in singing in our company."

The singer smiled. "Now that you were so forward and mentioning it Mr. Matthews yes, I was opening to audition for the company."

"Audition! Why we wouldn't dream of forcing you to go through that dreadful process. We will draw up a contract right away. Jacob, do you think you can handle that?"

Jacob shot an annoyed glance at Harrison. "Yes I think I can mange that." He whispered with an icy tone in his voice, and then he turned to Christine. "Forgive me for, Miss Day, but you have failed to introduce your young companion." He pointed out.

Christine gave a small laugh. "So I have, pardon me. This is my niece, Desiree. Demeters." The young woman by Christine's side who had seemed to be daydreaming until her name was spoken. She then lifted her head to look at Jacob straight in the eyes. He had to restrain himself form letting out a gasp in complete wonder and surprise. This girl standing before him was undoubtedly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Her medium length hair, full of texture was the color of fine brandy interfused with reds and browns. Her eyes looked as if their color were made of the earth's richest soil and her skin of the palest desert sand. Even the small cut on her right check, did not seem to alter her beauty. She broke her gaze with him and started to look around nervously. Jacob reached for her hand

"Miss Demeters, I'm honored to make your acquaintance." He said kissing her figures gently. "Do you work in opera as well?"

"I did a little work back in the States." She replied.

"Well if you wish, we have many opportunities in our company for assistants. That is if you are interested."  
She looked up at him again and smiled. "Yes I think I would enjoy the chance to work here very much." She said

Matthews gave an impatience grunted behind him. "Miss Day, if there is anyway we at the opera company can help you, let us know?" turning attention back to Christine

"I do need some one to help me find lodging for my stay. I do have cash to pay up in front."

"I'll get my personal lawyer on the job this afternoon. He'll have you settled into a nice home before this evening. And Jake wasn't there something you were suppose to be doing?" he asked cynically  
Jacob forced a smile on his face. "Yes, the contract." He answered in the most cheery voice he could muster.

* * *

Jacob tore down the hallway, glad to be out of his stuffy office, glad to be finally done with Christine Day's contract. Now he could have time to find out more about the mysterious, yet beautiful Miss Demeters. He had hurried to get her a job within the opera, and hadn't spent much time or attention to her. Isaac the chorus master had been begging Jacob for week to hire an assistant for him, to help him with passing out scores and managing all the music on file. Discovering that Desiree was qualified for the job, he immediately put her to the task. What a fool he had been tossing her into a job like she was nothing but a piece of trash. That moved had probably lost him all respect in her eyes. Which is why he was desperate to make it up to her. There was still time left, time enough for dinner.

He turned down the corridor and ran right into someone, someone holding a lot of music in his or her hands. They both fell to the floor and the massive amounts of sheet music rained down on them. Frantic, Jacob reached for the papers.

"Please forgive me. I'm so sorry." He said grabbing for a large manuscript, just at the same time another slender female hand reached for it as well. He looked up to see whose hands this was and was delighted and shocked to look into the bright eyes of Desiree Demeters."Oh God, Miss Demeters! I'm so very, very sorry. I didn't see you there."

She smiled and stood up. "That's all right, Mr. Danvers. You already apologized once." She stated, letting him gather up the rest of the music on the floor.

"Yes but I didn't know it was you." He said handling her the music

"Well if you would excuse me, I do have to get this work done before I leave tonight." She started to walk away.

"No wait." He put a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him with a causal look on her face. Jacob gestured the nearby door of Box Five. "If you have sometime I would like to show you something." He opened the door. She sighed and he couldn't tell if she did it to tease or to express that she was bored. They both walked into the box. "This is my favorite place in the whole opera. Sometimes I come up here to think or work, or just relax and be alone." He said spreading his hands wide open.

She leaned against the railing, and looked around. "The view here is breath taking."

"Yes it is." He walked toward her and took a seat behind where she was standing. "It's shame that I can't get the box office or the public to think the same." He noted

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean I can never sell this box. Not to anyone."

She turned to him and laughed. "Are you joking? This is the best seat in the house."

"The best haunted seat, that is."

Desiree cocked an eyebrow " You English are very superstitious if you don't mine me saying so."

"It's not me I assure you, but everyone else in this company and our subscribers believe this box is haunted. Something about a Phantom." She walked behind his seat. "My partner Matthews is obsessed with the whole idea. He thinks there was some man, by the name of Erik Destler, who roamed the catacombs of the opera. He sat in this box and demanded money from the previous managers. Till this day, Matthews still won't sell the 'ghost's box'. He says if we sell it we are all dead men." He paused "But forgive me for frightening you with all these stupid ghost stories."

"No" she echoed in a hallow voice.

"Well then you must be bored and I'm keeping you from your work."

"No please go on."

"We haven't heard from the ghost in all most twenty years. Most people think he is dead, but around here legends never seem to die." He turned around in the high armchair to look at her. "But we are sensible people Miss Demeters. We don't believe in those things do we?"  
But she wasn't there anymore. Desiree had seemed to vanish into thin air.


	10. Chapter 9

Phantom Resurrected Chapter Nine

Desiree put her hands up against the catacomb walls, feeling their cracks, and using her small lantern followed the marking she had made. When Erik had brought Christine and her back to the surface, Desiree had found a white chalk bit of stone in the underground tunnel and had used it to mark her way back to Erik's strange home. She held a hand to her long flowing skirt to keep them from dragging along the wet floor. She could hear mice squeaking around the tunnels, and drops of moisture kept falling from the ceiling onto her hair and face. What kind of man lives down here, she wondered.

The same strange man who compose music late at night in an entirely concealed room in the Midhoff Theater. She was going to find out why.

She found where her marks ended. She was on her own now. The light in her lantern was starting to fade. She ordered herself to think clearly. She had been surprised how adjusted she had become to this turn of the century English lifestyle. Perhaps traveling back in time to your former life did those things to you. That didn't mean she have to like it though, all these girly long clothes and candlelight. She didn't know how much longer she could handle it. But first she had to find Erik, and that was going to be near impossible with no more markings to lead the way and a dying light source.

A loud burst of music suddenly issues from the walls. It sounded very familiar to Dessy as she followed the sound. It sounded like the music Mr. Foster, Erik had played that night she had found him composing alone back in New York. That song he played was so beautiful though, like a lullaby. Another strange thing about the man who was her father, so mysterious and full of angst yet able to compose such gentle music that seemed to reach out and touch the soul. Thankful, Erik's playing was leading her to him. She found an opening in the wall, just big enough for her the squeeze into. Light issued forth and looking in she could tell she had found his lair. She wanted to pull herself in, but decided she would wait until she was sure she could enter undetected.

Dessy watched and saw Erik seated at the large organ. He was still dressed in his all black suit, swaying back and forth with the music as if he where an extension of the instrument. She lowered herself on her knees, the skirt soaking in the wet ground.

He stopped playing and looked around. Dessy ducked lower, holding her breath. He then left his organ and vanished out of her sight. She carefully pulled herself through the tiny opening, leaving her lantern. She was still hidden behind a chair in the shadows. She could look up and see a table full of music, and a rack full of whine bottles. There was a small ripping sound behind her, and turned to see her skirt was tearing at a ragged piece of rock. Ducking down she freed herself but left a large piece of the hemmed garment behind. But now she could move more easily. She dared to raise her head up to see what was going on.

Erik was standing by a coat rack, putting on a long cloak and fedora hat. Then he turned to look around again. "Oh Jesus don't leave." Dessy whispered as softly as possible. But Erik turned and walked out into the darkness if the tunnels outside his lair.

Once he was gone, Dessy ran from her hiding place. She peered down the corridor Erik left by, only able to see the shadow of his fleeting figure. She had to act fast, so she took another long black coat hanging on the rack. It was very elaborate and looked very expensive, but she didn't have time to look for another one or a set of pants for that matter. The coat was long enough to conceal her torn skit, so she threw in over her shoulder and pulled the hood over her head. With that she followed after Erik into the catacombs.

* * *

Erik sat in the hard backed wooden chair in a tavern he used to frequent called Lucky's Bar. He had come here many times during those days that his obsession for Christine had haunted his every moment awake or asleep. Only when he turned to his music, to write, could he forget about her if only temporarily. He took another sip of his whiskey and turned to scan the crowd.

Sure enough, the shadow in the corner was still watching him.

That thing had been following him all evening. How amusing it was to be stalked, he thought since most of his lifetime he was usually the stalker. He had seen the shadow follow him into the bar, and was almost convinced that he was being watched in his own lair earlier that night. The shadow leaned against an old, abused piano that was gathering dust. Erik grew tired of this, having his every moved watched and he hated nosy people. Many rude customers of the bar had met their untimely end the moment they had crossed Erik, had invoked his wrath. He did not particularly feel like killing anyone tonight, but if this stranger persisted, he would have no choice. Pity, he thought, killing did take a lot of work, and not something he had the energy for right now. Could it be that this lack of conviction be due that he was getting old? He laughed as he swallowed another shot of whiskey. He supposed being alive for some hundred plus years would do that to you.

He grabbed his hat and got up from his seat. The robust waitress gave him a flirtatious smiled as she would to every other man that night and he left a small gold coin on her tray.

"Thank you sir. Have a good one." She said. Erik nodded and continued walking. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the shadow in the corner watching him leave, and starting to move ever so slightly in his direction. Erik placed a firm grip on his bowie knife under his belt, the one that never left his side and walked out into the street. Even over the roar of the bar patron, he could distinctly pick up the sound of a pair of footsteps walking in the exact same stride as his own.

Hoping to lose his stalker, he made an immediate sharp turn into an abandon alley next to the bar. He drove himself along in the darkness and a fast pace until he could no longer hear any footsteps but his own. That unnerved him and he turned around quickly, his large cloak billowing around him like a dark cloud. The shadow was standing the alley with him. It didn't seem to move any closer, except for in limped slowly to one side of the wall. Erik pulled his knife out in plain sight, the reflection of the blade casting blinding shards of light over the walls.

"I warn you." He growled into the night. "Leave me alone, or this will be your last night walking these street." The shadow took a step back, and Erik could see two other figures enter the alley behind his stalker. They were burly men, both of them more than likely dead drunk. They stumbled up upon the stranger, and one immediately took a fist to his gut. The shadow fell to the ground in a moan, holding his side. Erik smiled, perhaps there was some to do his work for him. Wanting to vanish so he wouldn't be the drunks next prey he started to walk off.

That was until he heard a shriek and turned around again. He thought it was the poor fool who had been following him, but was surprised to see that he had taken hold of one of his attackers and flung him against the brick wall. Erik watched in amazement as the shadow repeatedly bashed the man's head, until he slumped to the ground dead or unconscious, Erik couldn't tell. The other man came from behind and leaped on the stalker's back. The two struggled as the shadow made desperate attempt to shake off the man. Erik saw the flash of a knife, the eyes underneath the shadow's hood became visible and seemed like they were on fire. The glow from them was unholy, almost like-himself when he was in a fit of rage.  
The shadow released the knife from the drunk and tackled him to the ground. He held the knife against the desperate man's throat. He hissed threats of fury that Erik could not make out from the distant, than he slapped the drunk upside the head, knocking him out with one blow.

For once, Erik started to feel a bit nervous. If the man would have been stalking him, could disable these men unarmed and so effectively, they was reason to suspect that Erik could have met his match if it were he in the unfortunate men's shoes. And then there were though eyes. The shadow stood over the two men the way a hunter stands over his fallen prey. Then he shifted to the side, stumbled and fell against the wall.

Not knowing what possessed him, Erik ran over to his side. Immediate he pulled back the hood to reveal this mysterious person. It was Desiree. Her hair was frazzled and she kept her eyes shut. One of them was starting to swell. What the devil was she doing out her, at this time at night no lest. And how did she learn to fight like that? There would be time for questions later.

She looked up at him and a lopsided grin stretched across her face. "Well hello Mr. Deslter. So good to see you about at this hour." She stated sarcastically. Then she let out a moan and pulled an arm to her shoulder. Erik could she a stream of blood following in a line down her shoulder and her breast.

"I have to get you home Desiree. You're hurt pretty badly." He said. "Where is your mother staying?"

"Beats the shit out of me. I don't know." She grunted

Erik sighed. "Then I guess I have to take you back home with me."

* * *

Erik dipped his hands in the basin of water washing them free of blood. Strange, he mused, that this was the first time he washed off another's blood that was not shed by his own hands. He had sat Desiree in his own bed, and put a temporary bandage on her. Grabbing a set of needles and thread, as well as some brandy as she requested, he went to her. Dessy sat upright, still clutching her shoulder.

Erik had to strip her of blouse, throwing one of his own shirts on her. He couldn't believe that she had taken out the men in the alley with such ease, and was even more shocked to discover she had done so, still wearing a skirt. He also was surprised to see her previous wounds from the fall in the mirror had closed up so quickly. What had been ragged cuts before that morning where now nothing more than faint pink scars, barely visible. He sat down on the bed, handed Dessy the glass of brandy and started to thread his needle.

"Desiree, what in God's name where you doing out there tonight?" he demeaned

"Following you."

He shook his head. "I noticed. You certainly didn't do a very good job of it, now did you." He moved towards the gash in her arm.

She smiled "Maybe, but you would have never guessed that it was me." She pronounced. "I fooled you."

"But you could have been killed." He grabbed her arms and stuck the needle in. She yelped and threw her head back.

"Jesus! That hurts! Not to be rude, back can't you just take me to the hospital instead of stitching me up like Frankenstein here!" she whined. He shot her a quizzical look. "Oh right, this is Victorian London and proper young ladies aren't sent for treatment because there where hurt in a street fight." She corrected herself. "Well at least let me have a drink of my brandy, that's way I asked for it."

He let her have a long drink, then when back to work. She twitched slightly and Erik put a firm grasp on her shoulder. "That bring me to another question." He said. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Dessy allowed herself another smile despite her pain. "Don't tell mom this, she would freak. But I use to run with a gang when I was still in high school. Not much just went out to fight in a rumble when I was needed. If I fought well, the gangs would leave me and friends alone."

"I see." Erik said

"Of course, I've been picking up a couple of new things quite naturally since I came back through time. Who know maybe it's a trait I had in my former life. Maybe I even picked it up from you. Where you really going to try and kill me in the alley?"

He started at her "Truthfully, yes I would have tried."

"Tried" Dessy raised an eyebrow "You mean you don't think you would win. I thought for sure you shred me up, like Jack the Ripper or something?"

Erik finished his work and began to wrap the bandage around her shoulder. "No I'm nothing like that." He lied. "I'm just a composer."

"Sure, and Hannibal Lecter was just a psychiatrist." She muttered.

His back turned to her, he smiled at her pun. If she only knew, he thought. "You need to get some sleep." He said

Dessy snuggled against the blankets. "Yes I suppose I do need some shut eye. You're not going to leave again are you?" she asked

"No, I'll stay here with you tonight."

"Good, cause I hate to follow you in a skirt again." She added.


	11. Chapter 10

Phantom Resurrected Chapter Ten

Erik waited in the profound silence that surrounded the stage. He asked Christine the other day to meet him at the opera early the next morning. He had done this so that they could be alone, to talk without having to worry about Desiree or anyone else to disturb them. But now, all he wanted to do was talk about Desiree, to ask Christine to tell him more about her. He almost wanted to be with Desiree than with Christine.

He sat down at the bench of the ominous grand piano on that stage and let his figures hover over the keys. Finally he gave away to his muse and started playing, a small simple tune that had come to him suddenly. But then he started to add more complex rhythms as his figures dance from one end of the keyboard to the other in rapid speed. It became a piece of music beautiful and innocent, and at the same time wild and passionate. Just like Desiree was, he thought. He could see so much of Christine in her, but after last night, Erik was starting to see more of himself in his daughter.

That unnerved him. Would Desiree start to become more like him, violent and incontrollable? Would Christine blame him if her daughter return back to the present corrupted? But then Erik thought some more. No, Desiree had already been corrupted by the world she was raised him, just like he had been when he was a young mortal boy. A struggling artist constantly mocked by failures that it led him to commit the ultimate evil, to sacrifice his own soul. Immortality had its price. One person could not alone corrupt another. It took a whole society to do that. He continued to play until a small set of hands snaked over his shoulders and rested on his chest.

He stopped and looked up to see the face of his angel, Christine. Even the small wrinkles around her eyes and her hair thinning around her temples did not impair her beauty. Not to him, nothing could do that. He brought her hands to his lips and covered them with kisses. Erik used her hands to pull Christine closer to him, and didn't let go even though he could sense she was still not comfortable so close to him. Could she ever understand he was just as afraid of her as she was of him? The torture she had put him through, the thought of losing her always looming around every second they shared.

She pulled at his grip.

"Stop Christine." He pleaded. "Don't you know I would never hurt you?"

"Yes Erik I know, but you still frighten me." She whispered. He sighed and released her. She immediately back away and rubbed her hands. He watched her. She dressed in high fashion of the day, obviously she had used the money he had given her not only to find a house, but also new clothes. Typical of a woman. Did she realize that Erik's wealth and power could buy her more than that? He could offer her every opera house in the world. That is what he really wanted to do for her.

"I wanted to talk to you about Desiree." He said.

"You aren't going to scold me for want I did when she was born?" she asked, half angry half afraid.

"No. I can never really forgive you for keeping Dessy a secret from me. But I'll never stop loving you." He confessed. Christine brought her hand to her head as though she where in pain.

"Please Erik. I can't take it when you say you love me." He looked up at her, shocked and surprised. Was he now forbidden to love, even though he couldn't be loved in return? "No wait, let me explain." She said. "It's not like that, its just-you know our love can never be. We can never have a normal life, and that's why I wanted for Desiree. That's all. If only you hadn't."

"Interfered! Is that it Christine? You had your perfect plan to erase all aspects of me from her life, to make her live a dull boring lie! So the truth comes out." He hissed.

She was silent. "I have to know about Desiree, what she was like. What I missed out on all these years." He asked

"I'm sorry from keeping her from you. I wanted to do what was best."

"You wanted to protect yourself." He corrected.

Erik walked over to Christine, and took her hand, leading her back to the bench where she could sit. "Watching Dessy grow up was like knowing like you must have been when you were a child, Erik. She so much like you. I can see it in her eyes. It was almost frightening. But in a good way. She was so full of life. I knew she could take care of herself. I wouldn't have to worry about her getting hurt." Christine looked up at him. "I don't know if you could tell that about her or not."

Erik smiled. "Don't worry, I could tell that about her after the first time I saw her. She has such amazing strength." He lowered his voice. "Christine, Desiree followed me last night."

"What? How could you let her?"

"To tell the truth I didn't know she was there."

Christine looked at him puzzled. "Didn't know she was there?" she repeated. "Erik that's not like you at all. I mean, you can sense thing from a mile away."

He nodded "Well I knew some one was following me, I just didn't know it was her."

"Well does she know anything else about you?" Erik balled his figures into a fist, feeling them bruise.

"No she hasn't found out I'm a murderer yet Christine, if that's what you are suggesting." he snorted. "But believe me, should would have found out quickly if it weren't." he trailed off. "Weren't for what Erik?"

He took in a deep breath. He didn't want to betray Desiree's new found trust in him, but deciding this time it was more important not to conceal any more lies from Christine. "Christine, I saw two men attack her in the alley way, just before I was about to. She took them out as if they were nothing. I've never seen such a fighting spirit as the one I saw in her. Both men were out cold before I could step in and then I saw it was her."

Christine let a hand fly to her lips. "My God, she isn't hurt."

"Yes she was, but I don't know. You remember all the cuts she got when she fell back in the mirror. Well last night, when I cared for her new wounds, those cuts were all sealed up and you could barley tell she had been hurt. When I left her this morning, her other wound had stopped bleeding and she was sleeping like baby. She has healed at such a rapid speed."

"Well Erik, she is your daughter, and you are immortal. Perhaps that could have something to do with it."

"You are more than likely right about that."

Christine started to incline her head onto his shoulder. "Well at least she's okay. Thank you for taking care of her."  
Erik looked down, surprised by her gesture of sudden affection. "You're welcome, Christine." He whispered. He saw her reach over into his vest pocket and withdrew the gold pocket watch he always carried. She flipped it open and looked at the time.

"The opera will be opening soon. We should go, otherwise it would defeat the purpose of a private meeting," she noted.

"Yes you are right." Erik sighed. Christine got up from the bench and started to walk away. Suddenly compelled, Erik stood up and race toward her. Spinning her about in his arms, he leaned down and passionately kissed her in the lips. He could not restrain himself any longer, and he braced himself for a slap on the face which was surely soon to come any second.  
But it didn't, Christine let him kiss her, let his linger on hers. Erik embraced this tender sweet moment wishing it could last forever, not wanting to let her go. She let him even push his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Her glorious lips from which the pure beauty of voice spilled out of, and sometime the words she had sung where his words. And so he enjoyed this moment of passion this beloved angel was letting him indulge in. Her hands curled about his thick hair, and he felt his sex harden between his legs. He was even so bold as to press the proof of his desire against her soft abdomen.

"Oh Christine." He murmured, into her hair. Then he slowly released her from his grasp, almost feeling embarrassed and ashamed of what he had don't.

Christine could sense this in him. "Erik, please you did nothing wrong." She said. "I cannot hate you for loving me. Please don't hate be for saying those things before."

Hate you? Erik thought. "Christine, I could never hate you."

"I don't know why that is Erik. If you hated me, I couldn't blame you. I betrayed your trust; I hid your only daughter from you because I was a stupid coward. Hell, I even killed you!"

"You tried to kill me." Erik corrected with a dry chuckle "Several times in fact."

"You're like a bad habit." She remarked

Erik at a lost of words gave her a mocking theatrical bow then started to walk away. "Oh Erik." Christine asked. "Do you think if Desiree and you had that little confrontation, who do you think would have won?"

"Oh I don't think it would have been pretty. You know me Christine. But I think Dessy would have given me good run for my money." He remarked.

Desiree sat on a small chair almost dead center of the stage. The large score to "La Boehm" covered most of her lap and weighed down her knees. She shifted constantly so her legs wouldn't fall asleep. The music of the assembled chorus swelled about the stage and through the auditorium, drowning out all the chatter and pounding of hammers made by the carpenters working on a flat. So far her duties of assistant chorus mistress hadn't been to taxing on her. She handed out the scripts to the singers, and provided them with pencils to make corrects. She had to follow Isaac's every movement and remark during rehearsal and make corrections in her copy of the master score. Earlier that morning she had been asked to go through and file a section of out of place pieces of music. Isaac had wanted her to do the entire office, but that would take forever.

Another wonderful task Dessy had to look forward to. She touched her right shoulder, feeling the large scratch left by the knife wound she received last night. She wished she didn't have to work. She didn't like Erik forcing her to go to the opera with Christine. She wanted to stay with him. But perhaps it was better; here she could protect her mother. Desiree couldn't shake off the feeling that Christine was in danger of some sorts.

The chorus continued until Isaac started waving his hands about. "No wait! Stop! Something isn't right in that last phrase." He started rubbing his temple. "I can't put my finger on it."

Dessy glanced up and around. She knew exactly who made the mistake. "Um sir. I believe Madame McArthur came in on her line about a measure early." She whispered.

Lillian McArthur was the current diva of the London Opera. Christine had told Dessy the stories of La Carlotta, the diva before her, and from the looks of it, Lillian McArthur seemed no different. The diva fixed a cold stare on her. "What did you say?"

Isaac tapped his pencil against his wrist, looking at his score. "No, I think that's what it was. What measure was that Desiree?"

"Measure 38, at the key change."

"I did not!" Lillian retorted.

Desiree raised her voice from a humble whisper. "Forgive me, but how do you know. You don't even have a score in front of you. I've been staring at mine the whole time."

Lillian stood up and threw her small fan to the floor. "How dare you? I have this opera memorized!"  
Desiree got out of her chair and walked over, her fingers curled around the score, whishing it was the diva's wretched neck.

She pushed the script into Lillian's hands, restraining herself from slapping the ignorant woman's face. "Then take another look." She hissed through her teeth. Lillian's face turned a bright scarlet and she dropped Dessy's score.

"Why you! You cannot talk to people like that, especially me, you American brat! Just because your aunt is Christine Day, who thinks she has the nerve to replace me. She will never be as great as me, and you will never be anything!"

There was a long silence as the entire stage watched the conflict between the two women, waiting to see who would strike next, who would make the next move. Dessy slowly bent to pick up her score, and tucked it under her arm. She walked around the diva, leaning her head over slightly.

"You bitch" she muttered

"What did you call me?" Lillian demanded.  
Dessy glanced about and gave a smile full of charm. "I feel there is no reason to repeat it, especially since everyone here knows it true." And with that she turned and left the stage.

Hidden away in the shadows of Box Five, Erik watched the altercation between Desiree and the lead soprano, Lillian McArthur. He allowed himself a small smile as he watched his daughter put the pompous bitch in her place and leaving the entire chorus stunned. Imagine what she would have don't if Carlotta were still alive. It would have been quite a show; one Erik would actually enjoy watching.

However, Erik remained himself that he couldn't let Desiree have all the fun in insulting the diva. No, she had spoken ill against Christine and Desiree and she must be taught a lesson. Obviously in his absent, the new managers had leaded themselves to make more hazardous mistake. Now that he had return to his old "hunting grounds" so to speak, they would find out their mistakes would be a bad career decision if they did not listen to his new orders.

Erik removed a black leather glove from one of his hands and stroked the red velvet of the high back chair as if it were the fur of a kitten. Yes mistake were made, but now it was time for him to correct them.


	12. Chapter 11

Phantom Resurrected Chapter Eleven

Jacob leaned back in his chair in his office, flexing his wrists to have the blood flowing through them. He had been signing papers all morning, making more contracts and having to deal with every compliant that came his way. He glanced at the empty flower vase on a shelf of book that had once been filled violets. Matthews had made it his only business to see that the management sent flowers to the star of every show. Too bad he had never had experience in that. Perhaps he could have sent flowers to Desiree.

The doors of the private office the two shared flung open, and Matthews stormed in, his face as bright as his scarlet jacket. He held in his hand a crumpled piece of paper, which he threw on Jacob's desk. "Would you look at this? He dares to threaten me! I knew this would come back to bite us on the ass one day!" He yelled.

"Just calm down, Harry." Jacob ordered.

"Read that!" Matthews said pointing at the paper. Jacob picked it up and then tried to straighten it against the desk.

"If I can make out what it even says." he retorted. Jacob finally could make out the scribbled words in gruesome red lettering.  
To the management of the London Opera House

_Dear Sirs  
I would advise you to replace the diva Lillian McArthur with your returning contract player, Christine Day. Her talent is far exceeding McArthur. Also you promote your newest employee, Desiree Demeters to the more respectable position of assistant chorus mistress. Going against these decisions would not only be a bad career choice for your gentlemen, but also bad for your health.  
The Opera Ghost_

"Can you." Matthews spurted still ranting. "Now do you believe the phantom is real?"

"No."

"Well now I know he's up to something." Matthews continued. "And now it's apparent that Christine Day and that other girl are involved with it all!"

Jacob stood up and hit his fist against the desk. "You're not suggesting that Desiree and her aunt have anything to do with this. You think they wrote this letter?"

Matthews turned on him coldly. "No, I think they are in league with the phantom."

Jacob shook his head. "Are you drunk? Listen to yourself."

"I've always listen to myself and I've always being right." he stated.

"Yes I know the only person you listen to is you! That's why everything done around here is by me. I'm running this company, and you're just pretending, you prick!" Jacob yelled. He could feel his breathing quicken, he had never been that angry before in his life.

Matthews leaned over the desk. "The only reason you're doing this is because you want Desiree. I can tell you want her so badly."

"How dare you suggest that? I'm not like you are Matthews."

"Well, say what you like but I believe we can use this to our advantage. Perhaps Day and Demeters can play that bastard Destler right into our hands." Matthews said smiling.

"You're the one who is the bastard if you could suggest using women like that just to hunt down your ghost who doesn't exist." Jacob spat.

"You know Jake, you shouldn't take out all your aggression on me just because you haven't been with a woman." Jacob reached across and grabbed Matthews's collar with both hands and jerked his neck about.

"Now listen, I have had it up to here with you! You lay one hand of Desiree or Christine, and so help me God I will make you suffer. Go pursue your ghost stories on your own time; you have enough of it damnit! " He released him, and he was shaking so hard from his rage. Matthews took several steps backward, gasping for air. He pointed a figure at Jacob.

"You think you can stop me. Forget this Jacob, our partnership is dissolved."

Jacob picked up a stack of papers that should have been Matthews's work and flung it at him. "Never mine that. We were never really partners to being with."

* * *

Erik scanned through his collections of music, trying to find a book of some of his favorite Welsh melodies. Desiree was walking about the lair, still taking in the surroundings, and of course making suggestions.  
"You know we could use a punching bag right about her. Like to one in my apartment." She commented.

Erik finally found the volume he was looking for, and turn to see Desiree pointing up at the highest point in the ceiling. "Of course we can have one there, as soon as you find a 30 foot long chin to hang it with." He said dryly

She rolled her eyes. "Great, I suppose I got smart-ass trait from you by genetics too?"

He smiled sarcastically at her. "If you had inherited my brains, you be able to figure it out, wouldn't you."

"So you're calling mom stupid, is that it."

"No, I'm just calling you stupid."

She ran up to him and punched him hard on the shoulder. "Screw you." She said sticking out her tongue. "Maybe I'll just hand you up and us you for a bag instead."

"Is that anyway to talk to your father."

"We're both adults and you haven't been around me for that long."

"So, why do you want a punching bag for anyway? Going to practice you little karate moves."

" No way I fight in New York style, mean and dirty." She kept trying to look over his shoulder. "So what do you have there?"

"Oh just some music." Erik said. "I was actually wondering if you would do me a favor. Would you-sing for me."

Desiree raised her eyebrows. "Are you talking to me? Don't you want be to go up in the rafters and do rigging instead, boss."

"No, I'm serious."

She absently mindedly tried blowing a piece of hair off her forehead. "Well I certainly don't have mom's vocal talents."  
He took her hand and led her to the organ. " Please just humor me." He took a seat and opened the book, searching for a simple tune. "Here, I think this one will do nicely."

Desiree leaned over. "Ad..hoys..no.." she tried to wrap her mouth around the tune's name. "It doesn't have any words." She pointed out.

"That doesn't matter, just sing the notes on the top staff on the syllable 'la'. You understand, right"

"Yes Maestro. I can read music you know."

Erik smiled as he placed his fingers over the keys on the first and second manuals of the organ. "We shall see." He started to play the opening bars with easy and tilted his head towards the music. "You come in here." he said. Desiree opened her mouth to sing, he almost lost his place in the song. He had only heard that quality of voice once in his life, since he would never heard the voices of angels in his damned eternal existence.

_ He remembered that voice, it was the first time he heard Christine sing, It had been so many years ago, but seemed only yesterday.  
He had being sitting in his box hidden behind the curtain, composing in the quite hours of the early afternoon, before the company had started rehearsing. He had heard two women come on stage; one he could tell instantly was that of young Meg, a chorus girl with a decent enough voice.  
_

_"Come on Christine. Come see the stage." She called to her companion.  
_

_Erik heard a delicate gasp. "My God, this place is huge. Much bigger than any stage I was on in America." the other female's voice exclaimed delighted. An American, he mused. The opera must desperate.  
_

_"Well go on. Try it out." Meg said.  
_

_"What do you mean sing. But there's no one here."  
_

_"Just try out the acoustics. That's what I meant silly."_

_And then Christine sang, and he felt as if he were struck by lighting. Her voice was pure perfection, despite it apparent lack of formal training. It handled each note with such grace and gentleness as if it were a feather floating among the clouds of heaven._

And now he could hear that voice again in his only daughter. She made the tune, simple as it was, sound like a complex masterpiece. She scaled to the higher notes without a hint of the wavering sound of an amateur vibrato. When he can heard Christine for the first time, it had felt to him as if he had been in love with her all his life. But with Desiree, something was different. He wrapped his mind trying to determine what it was. And then he realized. While Christine's voice was crystal pure like the tone of a pretty brass polished bell, Desiree's tone had something that reflected a hint of darkness. Her voice turned the tune into more of a seductive chant than a Welsh lullaby. Than it hit him.  
Desiree's voice was like his. The revelation of thought mad Erik's fingers slip and hit several sour notes.

Desiree frowned and stopped singing. "What's the matter?"

Erik spun around to face her, trying to mask his shock. "Where did you learn to sing like that?" he asked

Desiree shrugged her shoulders again. "Oh I don't know really. Was I okay for the first time?"

"Yes, that was very beautiful. You sound so much like your mother."

Dessy slide over onto the organ bench beside him and placed her hands on the keyboard. "You know when I was growing up, I always had this feeling that my father was a musician. I guess I was right, huh?" Erik nodded. Dessy reached over her hand and slide it underneath his palm. She looked up into his eyes, matching her stare with his. "Teach me how to play, please." she intoned.

"What do you mean?"

"I want to play like you play. When I heard your music it's like moving pictures inside my head, and their all so beautiful." she paused. "That doesn't sound weird to you dose it?"

"No, in fact the is one of highest compliments that has been paid to me." Erik stood up, and positioned himself behind her, leaning over her shoulder. Her took her other hand in his and placed them in the center of the keyboard, and like a puppeteer moved her figures with his to complete the opening strains of his Don Juan Triumphant.  
Both their hands played over the keys in a graceful dance, and Erik allowed himself to close his eyes. He tried to imagine what Desiree would have been like as a child. How it might have been if he had raised her. Could they been here, playing on the bench small daughter and father, playing together.

"Wasn't this the song you were playing?" Desiree asked breaking his concentration.

"Excuse me?"

"That night, when you where at the theater late. I heard this song." She paused for a moment. "Did you compose it?" she asked.

"Yes I did. It's called Don Juan Triumphant." Desiree flipped through the pages of his unfinished work, scanning over the notes in the margins for lyrics. She squinted her eyes and looked at them carefully.

"It's a love song." she stated, in a matter of fact tone.

"Yes, it is. It was for your mother." Erik felt a hard lump in his throat. Desiree relaxed her fingers and stood up. "I think it is time for you to return to your mother's flat though. Come I'll get your coat."

"All right." She said, and slipped her arms into the sleeve of the brown lady's jacket that resembled more of a blazer that was far too tight. "You know the one thing I never understood about mom, and now about you."

"What about me?" Erik asked

"Well let's face it Erik, you are quite the catch. You're a gentleman, you have good taste in fashion and you write and play your own music. Not to mention the candlelight. I just don't understand what mom didn't see in you. How could it be possible for the perfect pair such as you two to split up?"

Erik had to restrain a chuckle. How different the world must appear to a child, he thought. He thought for as smart as his daughter was, she had yet to figure out his dark secret. "I think tale for your mother to tell you. I'm not great at story-telling." He casually responded.

Matthews raised the flask back to his dripping lips. The evening seemed to drag on, yet he didn't want to return to his home. He rather just wander around miserable and depressed. After causing trouble at a local bar and brothel he favored when he was in a foul mood, he had returned to the opera house. He rested his head against a large pipe and raised the flask back up, only to discover it was empty. In vain he tried to let the last drop fall on his tongue but all he succeeded in was letting all that was left of the whiskey splash around his face and fall to the floor.

"Damn! Bloody hell." He cursed and threw the flask against the floor. It echoed with a loud clank on the floor. Since he couldn't have the pleasure of alcohol or women at this hour, he slyly let his hand snake down into his trousers, trying to arouse himself. He smiled, his eyes closed and his thoughts lingered on Desiree Demeters. The young woman certainly sparked a passion in him, he could see in the defiant stare in her brown eyes when ever he tried to brush pass her in the corridors of the opera. He wished she didn't favor such concealing items of women's fashion and would wear some of the more low cut and robust gowns of the company he was accustomed to.

Or perhaps no clothes at all for that matter.

Suddenly he heard a loud thud of a trapdoor opening. It brought him out of his state, and he growled. He released his hand and began to stumble about looking for the source. He could hear whispering behind a curtain that leaded into the costume storage area. He peered behind a closet door and was shocked to see no other than Desiree standing there. Certain that he was not being seen; he carefully pushed back the door. She was talking to someone, someone he couldn't see.

"Will you be all right getting home safely tonight?" a rich dark mellow voice asked. A male voice.

"Yes I'll be fine. I can handle myself." She replied, wrapping a long brown scarf around her neck and face.

A dark figure that must have belonged to the voice leaned over and gently kissed her on the forehead. Matthews tried not gasp aloud as he could see the figure's cloaked face, and green-gray eyes that seemed to glow with the fire of hell. So the rumors where true from what he had heard.  
This was the Phantom, and apparently his hunch was correct. Desiree had a very strong connection to this monster.


	13. Chapter 12

Phantom Resurrected Chapter 12

Desiree walked down the hallway, holding the large conductor's score and wishing for once she could just wear some pants. She had only worn a long skirt once in her life at her aunt's funeral and she had to wear one everyday she working at the opera. She couldn't understand how other women got around in them. She could hear the musicians warming up in the pit and the stage manager announcing "Five Minutes!"

Dessy saw Pierre, another assistant walking besides her, heading towards the pit. "Pierre, will you take this to the Maestro please. Isaac wants me to check on Miss Day before curtain."

"Sure." He replied stumbling to get a good grip on the large score. He walked away and Dessy headed toward her mother's dressing room. Soon after her and Lillian's confrontation on stage, Dessy had gotten word that the diva had been taken ill, and the lead of the opera was given to Christine. She knocked on the door and heard her mother's voice answer "Come in please."  
She opened the door and walked in. Christine was seated in front of the large vanity mirror adjusting her wig

"You're on in four minutes mom and you haven't even powdered your face." Dessy said.

"I know I sent my dressers away. I prefer to be alone before the show starts." She sat down her hairbrush and stared blankly into the mirror. "I wish your father were here." she said in a trance like state. Dessy looked at her odd.

"What are you talking about? I'm sure Erik is in the audience watching tonight."

"But will me be proud of me?"

Dessy was very confused about her mother's behavior. "Yes mom, I think he will." She handed Christine her powder brush. She took it and Dessy saw a glassy look in Christine's eyes, as if she were a dream. Christine powdered her face as Dessy walked towards the door. "Well I have to get ready too. Good Luc- I mean break a leg."

"I'll do my best." Christine replied now more cheery. "You do well tonight too, Dessy."

Dessy stopped before she left and turned again to her mother. "You know, he still loves you mom. I think you should give him another chance." Christine put down her brush and stared at her.

"Yes I know." Then she turned back towards the mirror. "He is always with me."

Dessy shut the door and Christine gazed longing at the mirror, reaching out to touch it. Once she had thought that Erik was an angel, a muse of music that had taught her. Now she was not so naive; she had seen Erik's face, knew his anger, his power and his wrath. More importantly she knew his love and yet she had abandoned him, and the child they had created. She felt a tear starting to trickle from her eye and she quickly brushed it away before it ruined it make-up.  
How things had changed since then.

* * *

Matthews stalked down the make shift corridor between the backdrops of the different acts. He had not had his pre-show glass of scotch. He needed to be alert now. He had to find Desiree and find how she was connected to the Phantom as well as avoiding Jacob. He finally spotted her, gazing from the wings onto the stage. He had already planed what he was going to do. Backing behind a curtain he stuck his head out only a little bit.

"Desiree." He called. "Desiree Demeters." She turned towards the noise.

"Mr. Matthews, is that you?" she asked

He stepped out from behind the curtain. "Yes, I need to talk to you for a moment." He slowly beckoned to her. She gathered her papers and walked over to him. Just as planned, now no one could see them. How gullible she was.

"Yes, Mr. Matthews, what is it? I do have a cue coming up any moment now."

"Well, I just needed to discuss a problem with you."

"What kind of problem?"

He smiled. "A real phantom of a problem." He then threw one hand over her mouth and the other at the small of her back. He twisted her back to press against his chest and shoved the small pistol at the base over her neck.

"Now don't try anything stupid, Destler!" he hissed. Matthews could hear her struggling in surprise. "Yes I know about you and the Phantom. You have a connection to him in some way I know it. So does your precious aunt, if she is even that." He pulled the both of them further away into the shadows. He threw her to the ground, still keeping the gun aimed on her. They were completely out of sight, as the arias of the second act continued on stage without a clue of what was happening.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Matthews." She gasped

"Shut up or I'll shoot you." He spat. "I know you're lying. Now we are going to walk out of here and show me where that bastard lives."

"I don't know." she hissed

Matthews bent down to his knees and pressed his body against her, still hovering the gun over her face. He took one of his hands and stroked her cheek, which was dripping with sweat. "I don't want to hurt you, Desiree. You are such a fine women to waste if you won't corporate." He moved closer to her, overcome by his lust, and he kissed her full on the mouth feeling her struggle beneath his grip. She finally managed to push him off, but he got up and still was able to keep her pinned.

"So what are you, his messenger, his spy? How about his whore?" he whispered harshly into her ear, gently licking it as he did. Then suddenly he felt a sharp object press into his stomach. He glanced down to see the tip of a bowie knife that Desiree held pressed against him, fire burning in her brown eyes.

"Back off, slowly." She commanded. Matthews raised himself up and took several steps back. He could see a smile now spread across her lips knowing the table had turned. Still startled, Matthews let the gun drop to the floor. She laughed at him, displaying a side of her that Matthews would never believed possible in a women.

"Your turn Matthews." She said.

And that's when the lights shut off.

* * *

Erik ran through the darkness and the screams of chaos. It was he who shut off the lights and cut a system of ropes that caused numerous numbers of sandbags and a few prop chandeliers to crash on he stage. But he could see his way through the dark and in that darkness; no one could make out whom he was. He had watched the action between that miserable worm Matthews as he tried to literally rape his daughter backstage. While he had a good hunch that Dessy could handle herself, from the display in the alley, he didn't want to chance it. She was his daughter, and he had every right to protect her.

"Erik!" he heard some one call out his name, and suddenly an arm wrapped in white clinging to his body. He turned to see Christine, holding him and sobbing. "Erik, what is going on? Did you do this?"

"Yes I had to. Desiree was in danger." He said pulling her along, avoiding the screaming chorus girls and startled stagehands trying to put the lights back on running all over the stage.

"What danger?"

"The manager, Matthews attacked her, almost raped her. He knows too much. He knows about me and more dangerously he knows about us!"

"Oh God, is she all right?" Christine gasped.

"I don't know." He gathered them into a corner and put his cloak over her. "Christine you remember how to get to the lair right?" Erik asked. She nodded. " Then I want you to go there, and wait for me. I'm going to see what's happened." He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the forehead, and was surprised that she didn't draw away. In face she held his hand and pressed him closer, as if she truly needed him. But now was no the time. He drew away. "I'll be back. I promise." And with that he ran in the other direction to find his daughter.

She had last seen her back the pin rail system, struggling with Matthews. Erik made his way back to lighting system, making sure his face was still covered The opera had just started to install a new electric system for the stage lights, while still using gas for the house lights. He took the primitive wiring and placed it back into the proper parts of the system and the lights started to flicker back on. One they did the noise subsided and Erik ducked between two pieces of scenery, making his way to the pin rail. He could hear the struggles and was surprised to see the other young manger, Jacob, punching Matthews repeatedly in the jaw, while he struggled to bring himself up from the floor. He also saw Desiree lying in a corner.

For once in his life, Erik never felt so helpless. His daughter lied only a few feet away and she was certainly injured, but he couldn't even walk into plain sight and pick her up, take her home where she would be safe. He cursed himself for turning the lights on. The darkness always made him forget what he was. If he where seen, Matthews would defiantly know who he was and he would most certainly cause suspicions if Jacob spotted him as well. So now he could only watch. Jacob pounded intoMatthews mercilessly, with the same anger Erik would have used to beat the man. But what had caused the fight? Could it be that Jacob had also seen what Matthews had done, and if so, why did he care the two were suppose to be partners.

Finally Matthews collapsed and Jacob stood over him victorious, his breathing rapid. He stared down at his hands, his knuckles splatter with blood. Erik could see the shock and fear in the young man's eyes and those feelings increase as he glanced towards the fallen Desiree. He rushed to her side and turned her over in his arms. Erik saw the knife, which she held, fall to the floor. He had given her that knife, so why didn't she use it. Had Erik turned the lights off just as she was going to strike? What a fool, he thought cursing himself again. Desiree had a large bruise forming at her temple from the fall and her lips and body where slack. Jacob checked for her breathing, which was shallow and raspy.

"Timothy!" Jacob called out to his assistant who came rushing to them. "Call a cab, immediately. We must get Miss. Demeters to a doctor right away!" The man rushed off and Jacob cradled Desiree in his arms a few seconds longer before he lifted them both up and started to walk away. Erik wanted to leap out as they walked pass, snatch his daughter away. But he felt compelled to let her go, since he was no help. Desiree like Christine, they could never be part of his world, nor he would he fully be part of theirs. Perhaps this young manger would be able to take care of her, for this night. He had to return to Christine like he promise. He could do nothing for Dessy right now.

Note: Yeah I know you know we all know the real Erik would run to the rescue if his own daughter where in danger. He wouldn't sit in the shadows and do nothing. BUT for this chapter he has to because then Jacob wouldn't be able to play a part in the budding relationship between him and Dessy (Spoiler: Next chapter, Jacob takes care of Dessy and watches over her that night, sweet fluff romance and all that stuff) So to recap: Erik would have no hesitation about running in and saving Desiree himself, but then Jacob would be out of the plotline essential to the story. Sorry I can't see any other way around it.yeah I'm a lousy writer.Just clearing that up so I don't get a bunch of post of why Erik acts like a pansy in this chapter. Erik is not a pansy, HE KICKS ASS! -Punjabchild


	14. Chapter 13

Phantom Resurrected Chapter 13

The dreams came again, and not the nice kind. The dreams were ominous, never really clear. They were like the nightmares with no understanding. Desiree could see nothing but a yawning black hole, flickering slightly with orange lights. She wanted it to stop. No dreams. She hated them. The pain tingling over her body was so intense and obnoxious she felt death was better than it. Why did she have to be tormented by these dreams? And they hadn't started when she had traveled backward in time to her former life. No she had nightmares like these, so real and disturbing all of her life. And unlike most children she had no parents to run to, and sleep in their bed the rest of the night when she was afraid.

The lights flickered and gave shape into the forms of hundreds of glowing candles and two black silhouettes facing each other and soon voices followed. "I love you. A mellow, yet rich and masterful voice intoned. She could recognize the voice. It was Erik's, she was sure of it.

"Oh Erik." The second silhouette sighed in the voice of her mother's "Why can't you just leave me alone? Why can't you forget all about me?"

"Forget you? I wish I could!" he leaned closer, his features becoming more clearly in the light. He absorbed the shocked look in her eyes. "Do you think I enjoy spending night after sleepless night, being haunted by the memory of you, Christine? Oh yes I wish I could be like any other man and forget you that easily. But unlike normal men who can touch you, feel you and love you without fear, I can only be tormented by you." His hands dug themselves into her long following hair. He started to cry, such desperate tears that even in the dream, Desiree could feel those tears. They fell on her cheeks, flowed from her own eyes.

"I can never forget you, Christine." Erik sobbed holding her mother's head. Now Desiree could feel the warmth of his hands.  
Now Erik's sobs became her own and the salty tears leaked uncontrollably. Wake up she screamed to herself, wake up! Her eyes felt like they where glued shut and she couldn't open them. Her heart started to beat faster and faster as if it were going to burst.

_Stop it! Stop it!_

She felt herself flung forward and stopped by a strong pair of arms.

"Desiree, Desiree." a voice called.

"Erik is that you?" she cried. A hand settled on her forehead as a pair of fingers gently opened her eyelids.

"No, it's me Jacob." Desiree's vision blurred and finally settled on the concerned face of Jacob. Even though his curly black hair was slightly tousled about and his face glistened with droplets of fresh sweat, he still managed to look composed and almost regal.

"Jacob.." she whispered. "Where am I?"

"You're safe but you need to lie down and rest. You're hurt pretty badly." he commanded. Dessy leaned back in his arms as he guided her back to the pillow.

"The dream." she whispered hazily.

"What dream? What happened?" he asked.

Dessy closed her eyes slowly as a new set of tears trickled down her face. "The dream..he.she.she doesn't love him. She doesn't love him!  
But before Jacob had time to question her, Dessy fell back asleep still murmuring her pitiful cries.

* * *

Jacob took the sliver tray full of English tea with sugar, milk, honey and about anything else you could mix with the drink, from the maid and brought it into the guest room. Dessy still stirred in her sleeps, troubled by strange dreams. He wondered what could be so terrible in her dream. It had made her cry and trash about. And whom was she talking about when she said, "she doesn't love him." As he set the tray on the nightstand and took a seat in the armchair by the bedside, he hoped that she hadn't been talking about him. He cared for her so much, almost to the point of acting hopelessly in love, and yet he couldn't find the courage to speak to her.

Desiree, even though he had only known her for a short while, had struck a chord with him that no person eve had. Yet he still had a feeling that she was not all she appeared to be. Jacob knew that was true for all most anyone in this world, but there seemed to be something she was definitely keeping from her. He leaned over to remove to damp cloth the doctor had advised to keep over her forehead. Besides having a very high fever, there had been several bruises around her ribs and stomach. The doctor also discovered many small scars around her arms and neck and a large one by her shoulder. The man of science confessed that he was puzzled for the scars appeared old and at the same time new.

When the lights had flashed like crazy, Jacob had seen her and Matthews struggling. As he pushed his way through the crowd towards them, he though he saw the glint of a knife and a revolver as Matthews threw her to the floor. A knife was found only a few feet away from Desiree. Matthews had had a gash on his left cheek, but he probably had more wound now after Jacob had gotten through with him.

Jacob smiled as he fixed the tea, mostly shocked and embarrassment with himself. He had never in his life gotten into a fight, especially not an all out brawl. But there was a first time for everything. Desiree stirred again and then sat bolt upright, quite awake.

"Good morning" he said stirring honey into the tea.

She looked at him dazed and then brought her hand to her temples. "Damn I have one hell of a headache." she moaned.

Jacob bit his lip surprised by her blunt tongue. "You should lie back down. You have some really nasty bruises. She took some pillows and propped them against the headboard before leaning back. "What would your like in your tea?" he asked her

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Well I never did drink tea that much and I suppose it would be very unladylike if I asked for some scotch in it." she quipped.

He laughed "Unfortunately, I had not a drop of it in my house."

"Oh so this is your home." She stated letting her eyes inspect the bedroom "It's very nice."

"Well thank you."

"So what happened to me Jacob?"

He handed her the tea, which she warmed her hands against. "All the lights went off on stage, and I saw you and Matthewsstruggling."

"We where fighting!" she corrected "That bastard pulled a gun on me!"

"A gun!?"

"Yes, he wanted to know something about the Phantom or some nonsense like that. Crazy talk." She said sipping her tea. Jacob felt his pulse quicken. So Matthews had attacked her, an innocent girl, as because of his stupid ghost chase.

"Well I took you home, and got a doctor for you. He says you'll have a fever for the rest of the day and a headache from all the stress. I've been instructed to keep you warm and give you plenty of fluids."

"You didn't have to do that, really" she droned

"Oh but it was my pleasure, and more importantly my duty." He glanced over at the clock as she took another drank of the tea.

"And unfortunately I have to attend my own duties at the opera house this morning since I not longer have the ever so helpful Matthews around."

She smiled and glanced around the room. "This is your house?" she asked. He nodded. "It's so beautiful. I love the artwork on the walls and ceiling." she remarked in awe.

"This house has been in the family for years. Even when we had money to buy something bigger outside of the city, but we always preferred to stay here."

There was a silence until her eyes came across the burgundy gown lying over the dresser. "What a gorgeous dress!"

"It's for you." He whispered.

"Me? But I can't."

"You need something to wear beside a nightgown all day, and you are my guest." He protested. "You don't mind that I have to leave do you?"

She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them through the sheets, letting her head rest on them. "You already done more than I could repay you."

He grabbed his jacket, which was lying over the armchair and leaned to kiss her hand, which was also laced with the strange white scars. "Well I had to. There is a maid down the hall." He pointed to a small bell. "She can hear the bell if you need some help. There are books in the parlor and we have a small green room if you want to watch the birds outside or see the flowers."

"I'm sure I'll be fine." She said smiling. He smiled back.

* * *

Erik sat in his seat in Box Five, waiting and watching. He knew Jacob Danvers would be coming to seek refuge in Erik's private box, like he had done so many times before. The young man found comfort and solace in this place, and since eh had watched him all day, it would only be a matter of minutes before he came storming in to escape all the stress. Erik couldn't even hear the man's footsteps right now.

He entered the box and shut the door behind him. He then exhaled slowly but then froze. It was apparent he could tell there was someone else in the box with him. "Good afternoon, Mr. Danvers. I was hoping you stopped by." Erik intoned

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" he asked. Erik could hear the footsteps coming closer

"Stop where you are sir, if you value your life. I think you know who I am. And besides I'll be asking the questions for here on out." Erik held out an arm in front of Jacob's view and motioned to the empty chair behind him. "But please have a seat."  
Jacob took a seat keeping a weary eye on the stranger. He had no idea who this person was expect perhaps- maybe Matthew's stories about the Phantom weren't just the ghost tale he had imagined.

"I can see why you come here to reflect in your thoughts, Mr. Danvers. The view, well it's the best seat in the house in fact. Pity you can't sell it because of your ghost problems."

Jacob cleaned his throat. "I don't believe in any opera ghost."

Erik laughed. "I can tell by your voice you are not exactly so sure about that. So would you care to tell me what exactly happened last night?"

"I'm still not sure myself. The lights when out and all I saw was my partner Matthews attacking my assistant chorus mistress and I." Jacob paused. "Why do you care so much about this anyway?"

"What happened to your assistant after that chaos? What happened to Desiree Demeters, I believe her name was?" Erik asked unassuming.

Jacob jumped to his feet. "What do you know about Desiree? What is this any of your bloody concern?" he demanded

"I know far more about her than you think. Now answer my question!" Erik shot back coldly.

"I took her to my home. She was wounded and I took care of her."

"Is she still there?"

Jacob took in a long breath. Would this man try to find her if he told the truth? "No she's not anymore. She's with Christine Day."

Erik chuckled. "You don't lie very well do you boy? I know for a fact she isn't there. Don't make me pry to hard to get what I want."

Jacob sighed. "Yes she's still at my home."

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it? You do not be concerned that my only intention is to hurt her. It is to do the opposite." He stood up; keeping his face covered with a black cloth so that only one eye shown. "You need to keep a sharper eye on your partner Matthews. He intends not only hurt her, but also you and I as well."

"What do you mean? So I also have to look out for your welfare too sir?"

Erik laughed again. "There is no need for that sir. I'm more than capable of doing that myself." He pulled the cloak around him and headed to the door. "Remember what I said, and be careful." He opened the door. "Oh and one more thing, if it's not to personal. Are you perhaps in love with her?"

"It is personal, but I'm not in the mood to keep lying to you sir. Yes I love Desiree, and I would protect her with my life if it came down to it." Jacob stated trying to sound as brave as he could.

"I'm glad to hear it. Be sure you stick to your word, for her sake." And with that he left.

* * *

Matthews stumbled into the bar, the wonderful scent of brandy filling his nose. He made his way to a back seat in the bar, where his contact waited. The man's thick stumble was visible even in the dim light and a dirty cap was pulled over his head. Just this must me him. One of London's most notorious criminals, now about to become a bounty hunter, if the price was right.  
And it certainly was. Matthews sat in the booth, while the man drummed his fingers annoyed.

"So." He grunted, "What exactly do you want done?"

"It's a simple plan really and we might in enjoy it more than I thought." Matthews explained. "Let me order a drink and I'll tell you all about it."

"You've already wasted enough of my time. Say what the job is and get this over with."

"Well you want to kill the Phantom Skinner of London, and I want him dead too. There is also this wench who's shown some disrespect to me. Lucky for us this plan for revenge won't take much work."

"What are you talking bout?"

"You only need to kidnap a young women named Desiree Deslter."

The man stopped during mid-drink and opened his mouth with shock. "Now are you telling me Erik Destler, the Skinner has a daughter?"

Matthews smiled. "Yes isn't it wonderful. All we need to do is hold her for ransom and the father will come running like flies to the honey."

The man raised a thick eyebrow and glance skeptically at Matthews before taking another drink. "Doesn't sound like a sure plan, but I'll do anything-for." He stared directly at Matthew

Matthews produced a large sack of money on the table "20,000 in gold, plus I have some influence in Scotland Yard and I can have the Mary Kelly, the Annie Chapman and all those other nasty Jack the Ripper cases closed for good."  
He smiled and brushed the liquid off his upper lip. "Sounds good kid. You've got yourself a deal."


	15. Chapter 14

Phantom Resurrected

Chapter 14

Desiree stood in the long corridor that lead to the manger's office holding her hands over the elaborate gown and pondered. There had been so many unanswered questions since she had traveled back to her former life, and a good amount of them still reminded the same. What was she suppose to be in this past life? Both of her parents had been reluctant to discuss anything.

Christine was constantly trying to change the subject, and Erik had developed efficient yet subtle ways of avoiding them all together. And why had they both being acting so strangely when they were together? What had happen between them?  
Since she knew the road to information was blocked by Erik and Christine, Dessy decided there might only be one person who could help her find a clue to her past. She made her way down the hall and lightly tapped on the door.

"Come on in." Jacob's voice answered somberly. She pushed open to door to see Jacob hunched over his desk, his tie loosen and his wavy hair spilling over his forehead and his fingers which where furiously rubbing his temples.

"Good morning." Dessy whispered, causing Jacob to sit bolt upright in his chair and stare at her confused.

"Desiree.I mean Miss Demeters, what are you doing here? You should be resting!" he exclaimed rising to his feet and straighten himself.

"I felt better after the breakfast and hot water you gave me this morning. Besides I really wanted to see you. So your butler fetched me a cab and I came here."

He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit down. "But why did you want to see me?"

"I was hoping you could answer some question for me. Remember when we first meet and you mentioned something about a person named Erik Destler." Jacob nodded. "Who was he, really?"

"Why does it matter to you Desiree?"

"Because I want to know who this person was that Matthews thought I had a connection to, that's why." Dessy stated feeling a stab of anger penetrating her voice.

"Do you think you're in danger?" He asked

Dessy's head slumped slightly in her shoulders. "I'm not sure really."

"Well you have more trouble with Matthews than with Erik Destler."

She started teasing a small curl that hung by her neck. "What do you mean by that?"

Jacob went back to his desk and started arrange papers. He seemed so nervous. Dessy could see the stress building up on him, and staying up all night to watch over her probably didn't help

"Because Erik Destler last anyone has heard has been dead for at least twenty years." Dessy twisted the fold of her dress she had been fidgeting with even harder. She took a deep breath.

"But who was he?"

"He was a composer, but the police at Scotland Yard had him as the lead suspect for about a dozen serial murders years ago. But they never caught him. Seems like the police can't catch anyone nowadays." He glanced at her briefly and then turned away. Dessy had a talent for reading people.

"There's more isn't there?" she asked plainly.

Jacob looked at her and smiled. "I really shouldn't burden you with the details."

"Please."

"All right then." He sighed encircling his desk as he spoke. "Destler was said to be obsessed with Christine Day, your aunt when she first came to sing here. He abducted her at one of the opera's parties-a masked ball of some sort. The police followed him down to his lair in the cellars of the opera. Well, the inspector said he saw Destler die in the flames and Christine disappeared after that. It's the last we heard of the whole scandal until you and Christine came here." He placed a hand on the desk. "You don't think you're in any danger, do you?"

Dessy folded her shaky hands in her lap and tried to shake her head no, but it looked more like a rapid uncertain jerk. Jacob saw this and went to her side. "I would never want anyone to hurt you. I want to protect you. You'll let me know if you're in any kind of trouble?" Dessy rose to her feet slowly and Jacob took her hand and kissed it. "I'm here for you."

Dessy smiled and reached a hand over to rest on the side of his face. "I understand that Jacob and I appreciate all that you've done for me." She whispered gently and then leaned over to kiss him softly on the cheek. Pulling back, Jacob turned his head and returned her display of affection with one of his own. She didn't pull away when Jacob's lips rested against hers, in fact she let herself relax in his arms and close her eyes. His gentle hands caressed her hair and neck before he jerked away suddenly. He looked at her as if he thought he was going to be hit.

"I'm sorry. Please, I didn't mean to be so rude." He stammered

She shook her head and smiled. "Sorry for what?"

His eyes grew even wider in shock. "You mean you're not offended by...my actions."

Dessy had to allow herself a small laugh. "Mr. Danvers, it obvious you've never been to New York City. It would take much more than that to offend me."

* * *

Christine watched Erik as he played the organ. His fingers pounded on the keys with such power that his back and limbs were shaking from the force. As she mounted the steps to where the organ was perched, she couldn't help think of him as some Greek God playing his instrument. Like Apollo and his lyre, Erik could make his music sound like the sobs and wails of a human heart.

Christine was sure it was intentional. She finally reached him. He stopped playing and Christine leaned against the side of the keyboard. "Bravo, Erik." She whispered. He looked at her admiringly and let his fingers enclose her hand.

"Yes, Bravo Maestro!" a sarcastic voice replied from below them. Both Erik and Christine turned to see to whom the voice belonged to. They saw Desiree leaning against the door frame. She had traded in her long dress for a baggy male dress shirt and men's pants. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed at them. Christine had seen that look before on her to know it did not mean good news.

Erik stood up and went to greet her. "There you are Dessy. We where worried about you."

She turned her head away from him. "Worried? Who would ever be worried about me?" she asked cynically.

Erik looked confused as he glanced back to Christine and then back to Dessy. "Well, your mother and I, we would. We didn't know where you were."

Desiree's eyes looked at her father like a pair of burning coals. "Why didn't you tell me, Erik?" she demanded flatly. Christine was surprised by the roughness of Dessy's voice and even more surprised to watch Erik take a step back from his own daughter with some nervousness. He held at a hand for Christine to take as they watched her.

"Tell you about what?" Erik asked

"Everything!" Dessy shouted slamming one of her fist against the honeycombed wall. "The murders, the obsession." She pointed at both of the in turn. "The reason mother you always acted so strangely for being a former lover and why you Erik are always acting so mysterious. Why couldn't you tell me yourselves?"

Christine felt Erik's grip tighten on her own and knew his temper was starting to rise. She decided to step in. "Desiree, how dare you talk to us that way, and how dare you decide to listen to all those rumors than us. We're your parents!"

Dessy's head shot to cover her ears. "Damnit mom, stop treating me like a kid. I know the secrets now. All you ever told me was a bunch of lies, fucking lies."

Erik broke away and Christine thought for a monument her would strike Dessy. "Never talk that way to your mother again!" he shouted, into a face that seemed to ignore him no matter what his rage. "You want me to tell you everything you've heard is true, is that what you want?"

"No" she replied coolly, enjoying the confused look on both of their faces. She went to the wall and placed her hands over two candle holders that where actually rusted blades shoved into the wall. She pulled them out and tossed on to Erik which he caught with ease. "I want you to prove it. Prove to me you are no 'Phantom of the Opera' as they say you are." Christine saw

Erik cringe at the mention of his former title as he took a step forward. She reached out a hand to try and stop him.

"Erik, no." The she turned to her daughter "Desiree stop this. You don't know what you're doing."

Erik shook her off. "Christine, stay back." He looked at Desiree. "Are you sure this is what you want, this is the way you want to settle this?" he asked her with a soft coolness in his causal tone.

"Indeed it is. If you are who to pled to be, then hold nothing back." She replied bringing her blade in front of her face in a fencing stance. Erik matched her move holding his blade inches from her's.

"Fine, if that's what you want. But I only hide the truth from you before because I was trying to be a good father." He admitted with sincerity.

Dessy blew a lock of hair away from her forehead. "Save it." She attacked first lunging towards his shoulder, but Erik quickly defended her off. He brought his blade over her head which she blocked. The echo of the clashing blades rang throughout the cavernous lair. Christine put her hands to her ears to block out the noise and she watched Erik and Desiree continue to spar. From the looks of it, she thought they were only fighting to test each other skills, even though Christine couldn't imagine where Dessy could have gain fencing practice. They wouldn't try to hurt each other, would they?

The two blades danced back in forth, as Erik and Dessy shuffled their feet in a circular pattern around the room. They stared at each other with such coldness, as if they were enemy predators, waiting for the right moment to attack. Suddenly Erik swiped sideways with his weapon missing Dessy's chest by inches. The force of the strike and the surprise of it cause her to lose her balance. When Christine saw Dessy stumble backwards onto the floor, with Erik leaning his blade over her neck, she realized this was no game.

Erik hunched over Dessy, the blade right on her neck. "Now give this up." He whispered. "You'll never win, no one wins against me." Dessy stared up at her father, her heart racing her breathing shaking her whole body. She glared up at him, and a coy smile spread over her face.

"Until today." She said. She gave a low snicker and then trusted her foot out between Erik's legs, in hopes of knocking him to the floor. Erik wobbled, using the wall to steady him but it gave Dessy enough time to jump to her feet and keep on her attack.

Again the two started the deadly dance of death with blades clashing and the limbs moving frantically through the air. Erik managed to pin Desiree against a shelve holding all of his scores of music, the two rocked back and forth trying to over throw each other. Music fell and spilled over the floor.

"Desiree, Erik, Stop this! Both of you!" Christine called rushing to them, trying vainly to stop the fight.

"Mom, stay out of this!" Dessy shouted back through gritting teeth. "You're just going to keep in the way and get hurt."

"You both are going to kill yourself if you don't stop this fighting." Christine managed to catch her daughter's eye for a moment as Dessy stared at her. "You can't beat him, Desiree." She spoke softly. "No one can, your father is the Phantom, it's true. I'm sorry I never told you before."

Dessy turned back to the fight, her eyes growing even angrier. "No!" she shouted. "I won't lose!" With a burst of strength, she managed to throw Erik off her. Off his guard, Erik didn't see Dessy's blade coming straight towards him.

"NO!" Christine cried, almost too shocked to look. Dessy's blade meet the end of Erik's with such force, it sent the weapon sprawling from his hand, falling across the room out of reach. Quickly she brought her blade to rest on the side of his face pinning him to the wall. Christine was speechless and she could tell Erik was too.

Dessy's breathing came out in hard huffs of air, shaking her entire upper frame. "You." she whispered

"Desiree, I can explain everything now." Erik said.

"I don't want to hear it! You let me win, you let me! I said hold nothing back."

"But, I didn't..."

There was a long pause and then it was shattered when Dessy threw her blade on the floor. "You're a liar." She hissed, turning to Erik and then to Christine. "Both of you."

And with that she left sobbing into the catacombs, before any of them could stop her.

* * *

The hot salty tears followed down Dessy's cold cheeks as she walked aimlessly through the streets of London. The cold wind stung at her fingertips and ears and she could hear all the sounds of the unpleasant dealings of the East End, but it didn't matter to her now. Nothing mattered anymore. Dessy leaned over a barrel of standing water that was in one corner of the alley. She saw her reflection in the water, and was disgusted by her drippy tears and red eyes.

She commanded herself mental to stop crying, but she couldn't, the emotion of betrayal was just too much now. All her life, it had been nothing but lie after lie it seemed. Her foster parents had breed her to live the lie that they where a happy family, when they where far from it. Her mother had acted like she was pretending she had never had a daughter. And then Erik, the one person she could actually connect with someone she could trust. A father, someone to take care of her after being neglected for so long, harbored the biggest secret and lie of them all.

She felt some when brush against her back and she turned to them, trying no to look weak. She could see the shadow of a tall man. "Excuse me love, do you have the time?" he asked.

Dessy sniffed back a tear. "No I don't, now get the hell away from me." She hissed.

"Well that's too bad ain't it?" he said and the Desiree felt a strong pair of arms over power her, pulling her back against a cold body. Before she could scream, a hand placed something damp over her mouth. She dare to taste it, it was like dirt and rust and the strong fumed invaded her nostrils as if she had been hit. Her eyes widen in shocked as she realized what had just happened. The drug knocked her out cold before she had a chance to get away.

A/N: Ah what can I say, sorry this chapter sucks everybody, I promise the next ones will be better.


	16. Chapter 15

Phantom Resurrected Chapter 15

A/N: And now comes the part in the story where we get down to the nitty gritty and become more graphic. A safe warning, if you don't like the whole "Erik and murderer" concept, then steer clear.

Christine sat beside her vanity in her dressing room, as Erik's anger started to rise. She glanced up as he took the piece of paper, the dreaded note he had received that morning in Box Five, and began to crush it within his grasp.

"Erik, don't." she pleaded. Standing up, she gently gripped his tense forearm, trying to have him relax. His flashing eyes looked down on her before he let the crumpled paper hit the floor. On her way, to pick it up, she noticed he had made a fist so tightly he had bruised his palms with his own fingers. He sulked to a nearby chair and plopped down. Sweat dripped from his temples as he sat brooding. Christine unfolded the note to look at it one more time.

_Destler,  
If you ever want to see your daughter alive again, you will come to the opera stage alone at midnight and turn yourself in. The bounty on your head is still very high. Is it worth enough to save her life?_

The note was hand written and not signed. "Do you think the police could have sent this?" she asked. He shook his head furiously.

"No, it couldn't be. Besides the Metropolitan are probably the bastard who put up the reward money, no gain for them if some officer turned me in. No this is some one planning on revenge." Erik said in a calculating manner.

Christine rested her hands on his shoulders, rubbing the tension out of them. "Well, who in the world could connect Desiree to you? No one even knows that you are alive."

Erik leaned forward in the chair in concentration. "It could be that one managers, Danvers."

Christine stopped in shock. "Jacob Danvers? No he couldn't."

"He's had a lot of contact with Desiree. Perhaps she let something slip." Erik tried to reason, but Christine refused to believe him.

"Jacob couldn't do this, Erik. He's a kind person who had been good to me and Desiree. He probably just as clueless as we." she stated

Erik sighed running a hand through his long hair. "Perhaps you are right. But I wish." he swallowed back a lump in his throat.

Christine saw him reach a hand to cover his face, trembling as if he were afraid or perhaps ashamed. "If only I had told Desiree the truth before none of this would have happen."

There was a loud knock on the door interrupting them, followed by a shout. "Ms. Day, please its me Jacob, I mean Mr. Danvers. I need to speak to you. It's quiet urgent." Christine glanced at Erik.

"Perfect timing." He muttered. "Let him in." She opened the door to be almost knocked over by the frazzled bumbling Jacob. He didn't see Erik at first and started talking quickly.

"Christine, I mean Ms. Day. I received this shocking letter today from Matthews accusing me of kidnapping Desiree, your niece. Did you even know she was missing? Matthews said in the letter that you told him it was me. The police are coming and." he suddenly stopped and noticed the dark figure of Erik sitting in the chair. "You!" he hissed pointing a finger towards him.

"At your service again, Mr. Danvers." Erik replied coyly nodding his head.

"You are behind this whole thing, admit it!" Jacob shouted. "Who are you really?"

"I'm Erik Destler, Desiree's father."

"And the infamous Phantom? The London Skinner?"

Erik rose to his feet. "One in the same."

Sensing the aggression between the two men, Christine stepped in, pushing Jacob and Erik gently away from each other.

"Please settle down both of you. Jacob, I never told Matthews anything like that. Desiree is missing and..." She looked at the note in her hand. "We found this today" Holding out to Jacob, Erik snatched it away before the young manager could see it.

"Damnit, you just can't tell him everything Christine." He muttered. Christine looked at him shocked. Jacob's lips curled into a slight sneer.

"What is the matter, sir? Do you not trust me?"

Erik glowered at him, his brows knit tightly. "I trust no one. It's what's kept me alive for so long boy." Christine ignored him and started to address Jacob again.

"Desiree was kidnapped. This ransom note, the person who did this wants Erik to turn himself in at midnight." She explained.

"Jacob do you think this could be Matthews' doing?"

He shook his head. "Matthews that idiot. He could hardly keep his boots laced up; he could never pull off this, at least not by himself." He focused his gazed on Erik. "Perhaps you should do what the letter says, sir and turn yourself in!" Both Erik and

Christine gave him a puzzled look. "It's simple; use him as a distraction, while I free Desiree."

Erik couldn't restrain the chuckled that burst from his throat. "Dear God, are you planning to add 'hero' to your list of small attributes." He said laughing. "Don't be stupid, I can do this one solo." He moved to gather his cloak and hat, but Jacob stepped in front of him.

"I'm going to help here. You sir would be wise to accept my assistance if you care for Desiree at all." He challenged boldly. Erik snapped and let a fist go fly across the small vanity table, sending perfumes and combs fly across the room or crashing to the floor. Christine covered her face to avoid the wreckage and even Jacob lost his sturdy composure. Erik raised his hand as if Jacob where going to be his next target. He hissed through clenched teeth.

"How dare you! Desiree is my only child, how dare you say I don't care for her!" There was a long pause as Jacob slowly adjusted his eyes. Speaking slowly he whispered.

"I'm sorry, but do not accuse me of the same crime either." He finally gathered the courage to look Erik straight in the eye. "I love your daughter, Mr. Destler. Let me help you fight for her freedom."

Erik lowered his hand and took a step back. He gave a slow nod and said nothing more, until Christine laid a hand over his arm. "Well, I'm coming then too."

* * *

Erik ever so slowly pushed the door open, balancing his dim lit lantern in the other hand. The door suddenly gave a loud creak and swung open further than Erik desired. He grunted and glanced back to the real cause of the sound. Jacob stumbled forward, trying to keep himself and his own light from falling on the floor.  
"Will you be quite?" Erik whispered harshly to him. The young man had proved nothing but a nuisance so far. He adjusted the light on the lantern so he could see both Jacob and Christine behind him. He wished they had both stayed out of this so he could just do on his own. "Keep your lamp just bright enough so you can see me." Erik instructed. "Christine, you can follow Jacob, but we must be silent, understood?"

All of them, with Erik in the lead soft walked through the main aisle of the auditorium. Even with any light, Erik could make his way through by holding out his fingertips to feel the edge on the seat around him. When they reached the stage, Erik leaped from the floor on to the elevated platform with an effortless ease. He leaned down to scoop up Christine by her awaiting forearm in the dim light. Once she was on stage, Erik gestured to Jacob to find his way to the stair. He gave Erik what looked like a reluctant nod and made his way.

There was a sudden whining hum and a large flash of sparks from overhead. Christine gave a scream and tried to scramble into Erik's arms. Jacob missed his footing and fell several steps backwards. Then the lights came on, blinding all of them. A faint chuckled started from one end of the stage and grew louder approaching them. Erik held a hand over his eyes and squinted to make out the features of Harrison Matthews coming towards them. Even though his arms were folded over his chest, Erik could still make out the shape of not to well hidden pistol. He smiled gleefully as he addressed them.

"Well isn't this a surprise." He said mockingly "I expected you here Destler, but the lovely Miss. Day. Surely I did not think she could find her way in terrible mess?"

Christine possessed by a new anger inside her shot back at him. "You don't know the half of it you bastard!"

"Oh that Desiree is actually your child out of wedlock?" Matthews replied coyly picking at his nails. "It didn't take much work to discover you were the Phantom's whore. It was more of a gut feeling you could say."

Christine cringed at his words and Erik struggled to keep himself from lunging out. Matthews had closer access to his weapon than he did. It was better to keep calm for now. Besides he had a good feeling they were not alone. Jacob finally found his footing again and jumped up the small stairs towards the stage.

Matthews turned, backing up so he could kept at least one eye on Erik and aimed his pistol towards Jacob. He froze and didn't take another step, holding his hands up. "And of course, I'm a little surprised to find my backstabbing partner here as well."

"You are the bloody back stabber here, Matthews." Jacob replied. Matthews gave a small glance in Christine direction and smiled.

"Now now, even though the lady doesn't watch her tongue, I'd highly suggest you head yours before it becomes my trophy."

The icy tone in Erik's voice cut through the tension in the room like a knife. "Where is Desiree?" he demanded coldly.

"Oh Desiree, yes. We'll she's right here with us or that is she will be." Matthews raised his hand and snapped his fingers sharply. Jacob glanced over to Erik, trying to communicate with his eyes whether or not to attack Matthews. Erik shook his head. Not until they had Desiree.

A large burly man emerged from the shadows. Erik could detect the stench of beer and body sweat before the man was fully in view. He trailed something behind him in the shadows that was large enough to come up to the man's chin.

Flinging whatever it was into the flooded stage lights and hearing it moan, Erik realized in horror that it was Desiree. He hands and feet were bound and her clothes had been cut in several places around her body. A large cut across her shoulders and back revealed her scars and also that her bandage had come loose and her wound re-opened. More cuts were down by her les and even more blood there. She struggled to move but managed to look up at Erik and Christine. A mark on her face that could have been mistaken for dirt was in fact a new bruise.

Erik's rage boiled and it took all his might from lunging to kill the two men. Matthews sneered down at her then turned his attention to Jacob. "Well I think we could sell more tickets if we advertise it as the meeting place of two of London's deadliest killers, don't you think?"

"What are you talking about?" Jacob asked.

"Forgive me I forgot to introduce my assistant." Matthews point to the other man. "Erik Destler, meet Jack the Ripper."

Christine gave a gasp and Jacob cocked his head in disbelief.

"So what is your plan Matthews? You want to have me go to prison so you can get you and Jack here can have the reward money?" Erik asked.

Matthews laughed hard. "Oh I'm not that dull, old boy. I was actually hoping to see you fight to the death as if were. As for your daughter." He said slinking towards her fallen form. "I see to reason to keep her alive. I could just kill her now. Blame the death on my partner and regain control of the opera. Killing two birds with one stone as it were."

"You monster!" Christine yelled running out of Erik's arms and towards Matthews. He flung her aside as she feel towards where Jacob was standing. He bent to help her. Erik let a concealed hand slip around a small knife her carried in his vest. Jack directed his gaze to Christine.

"She's a real pretty one too." He commented. "After we all finished here, I would like to rip this one up real nice." Erik realized it was now his chance to strike. He took the knife out of his pocket and threw it at Matthews. It hit his hand knocking the pistol out of his reach and cutting across his palm. He groaned in pain, and Jack seeing this struggled to get free his own weapon.

But Erik was already on the offensive, using his body to shove Jack backwards into a row of mirrors. The glass shattered around them.

"Rip this!" He hissed at him. Taking out another knife he stabbed Jack in his hamstring twice, feeling the blood gush over the handle of the blade. Jack groaned, sinking to his knees. Erik dove for Desiree still stranded on the floor. He noticed Jacob had thrown his arms around Matthews trying to choke him, and Christine recovered the fallen pistol. Erik cut free her bonds and carried her up into his arms. She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears.

"Erik, I'm sorry." She whispered.

He had to get her out of there. Jack was staggering his way towards them, and Matthews might me following them sooner than Erik thought. He would have to rely on Jacob to cover for them as well as protecting Christine. God help the fool if he failed to do so. Erik turned to run backstage through the curtains and backdrops, blindly charging his way through the darkness in an effort to reach the passageways to the cellars. But before they could reach them, and be safely concealed in the secret night of his domain, Erik could hear the hurried rush of many footsteps not too far behind them.


	17. Chapter 16

Phantom Resurrected Chapter 16

Erik rushed through the catacombs holding Desiree close to him. She insisted that she could walk by herself, but he ignored her protests. His feet splashed in the dank smelling puddles that filled the lower corridors, spilling water over his boots and jacket. Finally they reached the lair and he carefully set her down on a couch. She immediately jumped back to her feet.

"Desiree please you shouldn't be up at all!" he said. She brushed a lock of hair off her face and shook free the remaining ropes from her bounds.

"I'm fine really I am."

"But you're are bleeding." He noted pointing to her torn pants and wounded legs. Even some of her blood had fallen on his clothes and to the floor. "We need to dress those wounds." He turned to get some bandages. Dessy put a hand on his shoulder stopping him.

"No there isn't enough time." She said looking directly into eyes. "Erik they are coming to kill us. You know it. And when they are done with us, they will go after Christine and Jacob next. Please there is no other way."

Erik glanced down at his daughter and could now realize how much Christine saw himself in her. Her eyes flashed with a certain fire and her face beamed strength and pride. She had proven her ability to fight in the alley and had even bested him in sparring. Perhaps it was finally time for him to not fly solo anymore.

"I've taken on street gangs and mobs of police by myself. I don't think an assassin and a drunk shouldn't be too much trouble...for the both of us I mean." Dessy smiled at him, and Erik wasn't sure how to react. This was the first time in his life that someone had actually trusted him.

" You're right Dessy, we can do this together. Come follow me." He said leading her to his study.

* * *

Jacob struck a match up on the wall illuminating only slightly the dark corridor in front of him. Christine took the match from his hand. " Here let me lead the way." She said crossing in front of him. He moved to stop her.

"Wait Miss Day, are you sure about this. I don't want to lose you too." Christine glanced at him and saw no more than a frighten boy in his place. They couldn't both be scarred and irrational in the tunnels. When Erik had first brought her here, she had trembled like a leaf caught in a windstorm. Now this time it was Christine's turn to find their way through. She had to be confident.

"Do you really think it's over for Erik and Desiree?" She asked taking careful small steps letting her fingers trace along the wall. Jacob followed behind her, keeping a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know. I can't tell."

"Trust me Erik can stand up to anyone. I know. But we can't help them if we let Matthews get to them first. Do you still have your pistol?"

Jacob withdrew it from his vest and cocked it. "Right here." Christine leaned down to pick up a piece of chalky white stone that lay on the ground.

Here use this to mark out path." They continued to walk in the dank darkness until they heard a shout echoing across the walls. "Don't say anything." Christine whispered. "It could be Matthews." She listened closer while Jacob struck another match.

"Then we have to hurry then, before they find Desiree." He started to run splashing the water of his shoes and Christine's dress.

"No wait!" She called, catching his attention again. He tripped and fell down to his knees. Christine put a hand to her lips motioning for him to be silent. "The noise came in that direction, and if I remember correctly, that near the lower sewers under the river, not where we are going." Hope dawned on her face as she reached down to pull Jacob with her. "Come on, we are almost there.

Jacob stumbled to his feet after her. "But where are we going in the first place?" he asked

* * *

Erik tossed aside the large throw over his mattress to reveal a set of stainless steel swords with sliver delicately laid into the handles. He picked on up in his hand flicking the blade back and forth. He heard a rushed rattling sound behind him and turned to see Dessy in the doorway holding a drawer.

She had pulled on a fresh set of his clothes and then flashed him the contents of her container. "Hey look, I can use these!" she said proudly. He saw what was inside and looked at her quizzically.

"Kitchen knifes?"

She frowned at him. "Well what else then? I have to have something to throw something, I don't have a gun." Then her eyes lit up mischievously. "Do you have a gun here?"

"I don't carry a weapon that primitive." He replied. Dessy rolled her eyes. He picked up one of the swords and handed it to her.

"I assume you know how to handle on of these?" She nodded. Then Erik pulled out a long leather pouch and gave it to her.

"Here I want you to have this." She opened it with drawing one of Erik's personal knifes he carried with him. She held it in front of her tracing a finger over the blade.

"Thank you Erik. I know what this means to you. I'll use it well."

Erik placed his sword into a holster at his belt as well as some more knifes. He patted Desiree on the shoulder. "Are you sure you are ready for this?" She looked up at him with bold brown eyes. This was his daughter, he could almost see the exact image of himself in her face, but more so in her determination.

"Destler!" came the shouted threat from beyond the door. Erik narrowed his eyes and pulled his sword free.

"Well Erik." Dessy said. "I guess we'll find out if I'm ready now." They both moved towards the door and saw Matthews and his hired "Ripper" guns drawn wandering around the lair. Matthews over threw an armchair in anger, as if he could find anything under it.

"We have to get the guns out of their hands, but without being seen. Let them shoot at nothing. Once they run out of ammo, I'll take care of the rest. You get out of her, find your mother and get her to safety understood?" Erik explained. Dessy let her head slump in disappointment. He jerked her chin back up with his hand. "Think and move." And with that he opened the door and they both spread in the opposite directions crawling on their hands and knees. Shots ran out aimed at the door, leaving a few holes.

"Stop you idiot!" a rough voice which must have belonged to Jack. "You're wasting bullets."

"Shut up I know what I'm doing." Whined Matthews. Erik hiding behind a false wall he had built within the cellars and aimed his sights on the Ripper. It was an easy target since he had his large worn pistol held straight up in the air. All it would take was one clean throw.

The knife whirled through the air knocking the pistol out of his hand and clashing it against the wall. "What the-?" he exclaimed, examining his broken pistol. Matthews cocked his gun and aimed it towards Erik's hiding place. A stream of bullets pelted the wall, but none of them touched Erik.

"Damn, I'm out!" Matthews shouted and threw his gun down. Erik moved along the false wall, which would open behind the intruders so he could surprise them from behind them.

"Right you are!" Erik glanced back to see Desiree standing in plain view challenging them. Cursing he hurried along, just to come out to see Matthews and Jack stalking towards her. Before the Ripper could draw his own blade, Erik threw his hands around his neck pulling him backwards. Matthews grabbed the knife Erik had thrown from the floor and rushed towards Desiree. Jack pointed his long rushed towards Desiree. Jack pointed his long blade at Erik, as he in turn drew his sword.  
The duel had begun.

He was slow, but he was angry, Dessy calculated as Matthews lunged at her with a knife. She tried to pull free another knife while dodging him. She got caught against the wall and found Matthews had pinned her. She turned to see pure blood lust in his eyes. The weight of his body pressed hard against her, alcohol leering on his breath as always.

"Oh Desiree Deslter." He cooed into her ear. "You are so ravishing when you're threaten. I'm going to enjoy watching you suffer slowly." He shoved his lips over her's letting his tongue lash inside her mouth. Unable to scream she kicked upwards between his legs, kneeing him in the groin. He pulled away and groaned. Desiree saw her chance pulling free her knife and slashing him across the back. He yelled in pain but it only made him no enraged. He went again to attack her and they both danced back and forth the small blades clashing trying to stab one another. She could see Erik struggling with Jack. Apparantly he was also skilled in the art of sword fighting.

Matthews tried to take a running start but Desiree jumped out of his way. He stumbled into a cabinet. Dessy rushed to his fallen form ad turned him to face her. She held the blade under his neck. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you?"

Matthews had a large gash across his head and as he spoke blood fell from is mouth. "I can't. You have to think of one for yourself, bitch." He gurgled. Enraged she threw him back down took a bottle of wine and smashed it across his face. Matthews's head went limped backwards and he was out cold.

"Damn waste." Dessy said flicking the broken bottleneck aside and let go of Matthews' body.

"ERIK!" That was Christine screaming. Dessy turned to see Erik crumpled against the wall. Christine and Jacob looked up in horror as Jack had his blade raised high above his head ready to strike. Dessy took her knife and flung it, hitting the Ripper straight in the back. He groaned and clawed desperately to remove the knife. His eyes focused on Desiree. Showing no fear, she picked up her blade and moved towards him.

Erik tried to pick himself up and watched as the two stalked closer. Desiree noticed he had a large wound across his abdomen and it looked like he was even holding some of his insides from falling out. Seeing him wounded only made Desiree angrier.

"You are a fool girl." Jack hissed wiping his long bloody blade on the bottom of his jacket. "A dead fool that is." Dessy brought her sword up to a fighting stance. Her palms were sweaty and her knees shook but she tried to keep a stoic face.

"Not before you are." She whispered. He made the first strike bringing his blade in a downward arc that would have opened her from nose to spleen, if she hadn't jumped away that is. She brought up her blade to ward of his next blow. Starring at each other eye to eye, locked in combat, they sized each other up. Though the man had strength and contorted his face into a sinister sneer, Dessy could not believe this man could have been Jack the Ripper. He was too simple, just a simple, stupid angry man. But of course madman did have a way of look like everyone else. She threw him backward and the duel began again as they swords did a deadly dance.

"Why are you doing this?" Dessy asked. "What do you want from us?"

"The police want a reward for your father's head, and I intend to deliver just that to them." He gloated dodging one of her attacks.

"Idiot! You have no proof." Dessy challenged trying to make a surprise lower cut, which he again blocked. "And what about me?"

He laughed. "Oh I'll just kill you for the hell of it." They had made their way to the organ and Desiree could not bear having her father's beautiful instrument destroyed. She jumped down off the ledge leaving Jack starring down at her. "Do you know what its like to kill?" He leered. "To have the blood flow through your hands. To reach inside them and touch them in a way that only God has done before." He took his own blade, swiped it across his own hand letting the blood fall towards her. Droplets of it hit her eyes and mouth. "Perhaps you should join me, see what it feels like."

"Never!" Dessy shouted and picked up a spare knife and threw it at him. But he was too quick and jumped down to her level. With a well-placed hand he delivered a blow that sent her sprawling backward against a wall. The blunt ends of the candleholders embedded themselves into her shoulders and back and the candles fell to the floor burning her face. Her sword had been knocked from her hand and she looked up to see Jack standing over her. His blade positioned in a way that would kill her with one blow. She closed her eyes preparing to meet her end

_Mom, Erik, Jacob, I'm sorry_

A shot rang out and Dessy opened her eyes to see Jack staring at a gapping hole in his arm. Erik stood behind them, holding Jacob's smoking pistol in his hand. While Jack was distracted, Dessy grabbed a blade from the wall and shoved the sharp end into his abdomen and through his chest. He gasped and his eyes bulged out in surprise. Blood dripping from his lips, he lurched forward and then fell to his side, death before he hit the ground.

Dessy used her hands and back to slowly stand up. Just as she had gotten to her feet, a pair of small arms holding her tight knocked her forward. It was Christine, and she buried her head into Dessy's shoulder. "It's all right mom, I'm okay." Christine sobbed and Dessy stroked her mother's hair to comfort her. Erik came towards them. Desiree glanced at the gun and then back to his face. "A primitive weapon huh?"

Erik took another hard step towards her, and Desiree could see the he too was crying. "Shut up Desiree." He gasped throwing his arms around them both. He squeezed hard and while the wounds he disturbed protested, Dessy let him hold her anyway.

"Just shut up."


	18. Epilouge

Phantom Resurrected

Epilogue

In the early morning on the opera stage no one could hear the piano playing. Or the mistakes. Desiree fumbled through a tune. She had taught herself the right hand and treble clef of piano music when she was younger but never had enough time or concentration to learn the rest. Sighing after hitting again another sour note, she leaned her head down on the instrument. She could see her reflection perfectly in piano's shiny black surface. Sleep would be good right now.

"You didn't get much rest last night?" Erik noted. Dessy looked up to see him at the piano. He smiled and looked over at the music. "What where you playing?"

"Butchering Bach is more like it." She stretched her arms slightly. It was still sore and the skin under her bandages. It had been almost a week since her fight with Matthews and the Ripper and her multiple wounds still ached. Christine had stayed by Dessy and Erik's bedsides caring for her wounded family with Jacob helping gather supplies. Erik had healed faster, but Christine had tried her hardest to keep Dessy in bed and rested. But refusing to be caged up she snuck away to the stage in the early morning when everyone was asleep.

Everyone except Erik.

"So what's on your mind?" He asked.

"What do you think?" Dessy grumbled. Matthews had been sent to court and Scotland Yard had found an unidentifiable male body floating in the Thames. "Do you really think that was the Ripper after us?"

Erik drummed his fingers in thought. "I doubt it. There have been some many fakes claiming to be the Ripper. I wouldn't be surprised if our friend was one of them."

Dessy sighed again glancing to the long row of mirrors behind her. "So this is what it feels like to be a wanted criminal. Charming and exhausting." Erik went to stand by the mirrors and she went to his side. "So Erik have you been alive all these years?" He nodded

"Not bad for a hundred years young." He said jokingly.

"So what could you say you've learn through all these years?"

Erik took in a deep breath. "Sometimes things that are too good to be true usually are." Dessy glanced up at her father. He looked so strong, like nothing could break him. She felt a deep sense of pride. She wanted to be just like him, strong. "I thought I almost lost you that night, Desiree, after I had just found you." He confessed.

"I'll never be lost to you, ever Erik." She shoved her hands into her pocket, gazing blankly at the mirror. "I know that, because I made a promise." Erik looked at her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Really what promise was that?"

"I made promise to myself." She laid a hand on the glass. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt me or the people I care about, ever." Her hands slowly became a fist. "I swear it."

Erik put his own hand over Dessy's, steadying it. "I understand how you feel." He glanced into the mirror, as if he where seeing through it. "You know, we can go back home anytime you want, forget all this ever happen." He said.  
Dessy turned to him, and embraced her father. It was like the dream. So this is what it felt like to be loved, by her real parents. No she never wanted this to end. She made a promise. Somehow she would make it work; somehow they could be a happy family. It could work. She would make it work.

"Nah, Erik. I'd like to stay here." She answered

TO BE CONTINUED.

A/N: It's Finished! Whew how long did that take, I wasn't counting. Thank to all the loyal readers and reviewer who hung on for the ride. And to everyone who added me to favorite authors and stories lists. Hope everyone enjoyed Phantom Resurrected. I'd like some feedback, what you liked or want you didn't like, so please review. Puppy Eyes Stay tuned, the saga will continued as promise. Look soon for the sequel to the sequel. " Phantom Resurrected: Friend or Foe?" when Desiree dons the infamous mask and gets in some messing business with Jekyll and Hyde.


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